


Salt in the Wound

by QueenIX



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Bajoran Culture, Canon Compliant, F/M, Gen, Mild Sexual Content, Murder Mystery, Occupation of Bajor, Other, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-17
Updated: 2019-05-24
Packaged: 2019-07-08 13:36:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 14
Words: 72,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15931514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenIX/pseuds/QueenIX
Summary: Odo and Kira head off to Bajor for a couple's vacation, but a tragic event in the form of a murder cuts their vacation short. Odo is pulled off his vacation and put on the case, but he has misgivings about taking it. The murder victim was a friend and was also the victim of an unsolved crime that fell under his jurisdiction during his time with the Cardassians. Is Odo's inability to solve his friend's past case responsible for the current tragedy? Is he to blame for the death of an old friend? Or are there new forces at work in this case? Either way, Odo is determined to catch a killer and get his friend the justice she's due.





	1. Preface

**Author's Note:**

> This work is unfinished. I'm working on it, I swear.

 

“Odo, have you ever been on a real vacation?”

Odo reluctantly raised his glance from his datapad. Kira sat next to him on the bed, still dressed in her nightshirt, her own datapad resting on her lap. The couple was engaged in their usual morning routine of reading the news wires together before their hectic workdays began.

Odo looked pointedly at Kira as he considered her question. “Define real,” he said.

“I mean _real,_ Odo,” she replied. She took a pause to set her raktajino mug on the nightstand and then turned back to him. “I'm talking about a real vacation, meaning an extended time away from work which you spent somewhere you wanted to be—not somewhere you were obligated to be—doing things you enjoy doing. No working at all.”

“I went to Bajor just last month,” Odo replied. He went back to reading the newswire.

“That wasn’t a vacation,” Kira said. She covered Odo’s datapad screen with her hand and waited until he looked up at her. “That was a day trip,” she continued, ignoring Odo’s warning scowl. “You went to Dahkur City to visit Dr. Mora for one afternoon and came back on the transport that night. I’m asking if you’ve ever, since accepting your commission, taken a full leave of absence from the militia?”

The answer, of course, was no. Odo had never taken that much time off from his duties. He never had a reason to take a full leave. He had no family to speak of, no home planet to visit, no major hobbies or outdoor interests one of Quark’s holosuites couldn’t accommodate. Most of his free time went to quieter pursuits like reading, drawing, or catching up on criminal activity reports. Nerys knew these facts about Odo as much as Odo did. If she didn’t know as his commanding officer that he’d never used any of his allotted leave time, she would certainly know as his lover. Why, then, was she asking a question she already knew the answer to? What was she up to?

“Nerys, why are you asking?” Odo said.

Kira grinned and snatched Odo’s pad from his hands. Before Odo could protest, she replaced it with hers.

“This,” Kira said, pointing at the image on the screen, “is a place I’ve been dying to see. I want to take a holiday here, Odo, for at least a week, and I would love it if you’d come with me. I think you and I are long overdue for a romantic getaway.”

Odo looked down at the image. It was a view of a pristine, white-sand beach taken from a balcony terrace. The bottom of the holoimage was framed by the balcony’s stone railing. Beyond the railing, an azure sky piled with fluffy white clouds floated over a flawless blue-green ocean. The holoimage had sound, too. Odo touched the audio icon and let the timeless music of ocean waves crashing on a sandy shore fill Kira’s bedroom. He could even hear the high-pitched cry of seabirds.

“Where is this?” Odo asked. “Risa? Belsan 7?”

“Nope. It’s Bajor.”

Odo looked up her, mildly surprised. “Really?” he said.

“Really,” Kira returned. “This is a promotional ad for The Latara Resort and Spa, located on the Maldonian Islands. The grand opening of the hotel has been advertised all over the Bajoran newswires for weeks. Actually, I’m surprised you missed it, considering you read the newswires every morning just like I do.”

Odo acknowledge that was true, he did read the newswires, but didn’t tell Kira he skipped over the travel section in favor of downloading the sports section. After all, it was springball season, and his morning time with Nerys was often the only time he had for checking up on his favorite teams. Time she was interrupting with this whole vacation business.

“But why here, Nerys?” Odo asked. He muted the seabirds mid-scree. “About the last place I can picture Colonel Kira Nerys is lazing around an upscale beach resort. You’ve never been an advocate of the building of commercial attractions on Bajor. Or of sitting still.”

“I know,” Kira said, “and you’re right. I’m not a fan of the recent trend of advertising Bajor as a vacation planet, but the Latara is different. It has a certain history.”

“What kind of a history?” Odo asked.

Kira sat up straighter on the bed and turned her body so she could face Odo. Her expression was the same one she wore when she was about to give an official speech. However, she wasn’t exactly dressed for the occasion. Her dark auburn hair was still mussed from sleeping, her knees were drawn up under her nightshirt, and her face was still bare of cosmetics. Odo concluded he was about to get a history lecture from the most adorable teacher ever.

“Before the Occupation,” Kira began, “the Latara was a working monastery. The monks dried sea salts and made apothecary compounds on Latara Island for over three millennia. Lataran medicine salt was renowned planet-wide for its healing properties. Then, the Occupation began, and like most of the monasteries on Bajor, the monks were taken from the sanctuary, imprisoned in labor camps, and the Cardassians used our sacred spaces for their evil purposes. In the case of the Latara Monastery, it was used as the headquarters for the Obsidian Order in the western region. The Order leveled most of the monastery when they withdrew. The monastery was in shambles for years until this hotel restoration project came along.”

“The Obsidian Order,” Odo said. “That is some heavy history. Why would the Obsidian Order pick a seaside monastery as a base of operations?”

Kira shrugged. “Same reason the monks did, I suppose. The Maldonian Islands never know winter, have a small population, and are ridiculously beautiful, even by Bajoran standards. Plus, the monastery is built into the mountain cliffs over the shoreline. You can see anyone coming for kilometers, a feature the Order likely appreciated.”

“Hmph,” Odo agreed. “That explains it. That doesn’t answer my original question, though. Why do _you_ want to go to this place, Nerys?”

“Because I want to enjoy my own planet for once, Odo,” Kira replied. “At the end of the Occupation, I became a grunt in the militia, got a triple promotion, and then got stationed on DS9, all in a matter of months. Since then, I haven’t been back to Bajor for more than a few days at a time, and most of the time, when I go, my visit ends up turning into some awful drama I can't seem to avoid. It seems like I can never make the trip home and just _be_ on my own planet.  And, as much as I hate seeing part of Bajoran religious history used as an inn, at least it doesn’t still have Cardassians in it, and even I can’t deny that Bajor is going to need commercial places like the Latara to encourage economic growth. I realized I should be encouraging it myself and spending my wages at home.”

“So you picked an exclusive seaside resort as a vacation destination for political reasons?”

“Yeah, I guess I did.”

“Well, that makes more sense, then.”

“Also, there is another reason I wanted to go.”

“What’s that?” Odo asked.

Kira grinned and leaned across the bed to kiss Odo’s cheek. “Hang on,” she said, “I’ll show you.”

Kira tossed the covers back and hopped out of bed. Odo watched her dash across the bedroom and go into her closet. When she came back out, she had a bundle of electric blue strings in her hands.

“What on Bajor is that?” Odo asked.

Kira set the bundle of blue strings on the bed and started untangling them. “A bathing suit,” she replied. “If we go to the Latara, I’ll finally get a chance to wear it.”

“How is that… _formation_ …a bathing suit?”

Kira picked up a disentangled piece and showed it to Odo. It consisted of two small blue triangles threaded through a couple of flimsy strings, and that was it. Odo eyed those blue triangles dubiously.

“Nerys, you’re really going to wear that? Wearing anything that—extroverted?— is also not like you.”

“You think the top is extroverted, wait til I show you the bottom,” she replied. “I booked us an upgraded room with a private terrace so I can sunbathe in peace. Likely, no one will see me in this suit but you. I have a more modest one for the beach.”

Odo's gaze returned to the electric blue triangles covering Kira’s front. He pictured her wearing this nothing of a top without the nightshirt behind it. He started to get lost in the thought, but then Kira’s words caught up with him.

“Wait, booked us a room? You’ve made reservations already? I haven’t even said yes yet.”

“I was hoping you would after I explained myself,” Kira replied. She had the grace to try to look guilty. “I’ve also taken the liberty of turning in leave time for both of us starting next week. And be warned, if you say no, I’m prepared to model the bottom of this bathing suit for you as a very unfair bargaining tactic. So…are we going on our first-ever vacation together or not?”

Of course, they were. Odo never told Nerys no, not if it was about something that would bring her happiness or was in his power to give her, and his time was certainly that. He’d already decided to travel with her to Bajor as soon as she said she wanted him to. However, to pay Kira back for her stringy attempts at manipulation, Odo decided to draw out the suspense a bit longer.

“What about Captain Sisko?” Odo asked. “Did you discuss our leave with him?”

“I did,” Kira replied, “and his response was, “It’s about time.’”

“And what about security? Who’s supposed to watch over my affairs while I’m gone?”

“Worf, who else?”

“He’s free?”

“Captain Sisko said he’d clear Worf’s schedule, just for you.”

“I’m still not convinced this is the best time for us to be away from the station,” Odo said. “After all, we are still enmeshed in an intergalactic war, even if the war also appears to be on hiatus at the moment." He crossed his arms over his chest and scowled skeptically at Kira. “You're going to have to make your full pitch. Show me the bottom.”

Kira’s smile was knowing as she picked up the bathing suit bottom. She stretched it across her hips by what Odo assumed passed for the waist of the garment. Again, it was nothing but blue strings and a cloth triangle to cover her front. She turned the suit bottom around so Odo could see the back of it. The back of the bathing suit bottom was nothing but a single blue string.

“All right,” Odo said. “I’m convinced. We’ll go. But there is one thing you should know.”

Kira’s smile fell a little. “What’s that?”

“You might’ve wasted your latinum on the room upgrade,” Odo replied. “If you insist on parading around in front of me in that tiny bathing suit and its bottomless bottom, I doubt you’ll make it out to that private terrace. I doubt you’ll even make it out of the bedroom.”

Kira’s grin stretched wider than ever. “Odo, why do you think I bought the suit?”

 


	2. Chapter 2

 

Odo stood outside the airlock of landing pad six, out of uniform and completely off the clock for the first time in years. That morning, with Kira's imput, he had formed a dark green tunic and trousers to wear on their impending trip to Bajor. He was anxiously waiting for Kira to conclude her business with Ezri Dax so he and Kira could depart and begin their vacation. At the rate Kira was going, though, Odo thought it possible their entire vacation would be spent at the airlock.

Although Odo had been hesitant at first to be away from his duties during a time of war, the process of preparing for leave had made a vacation sound like an increasingly appealing prospect. He had spent the last few days arranging to cover his department while he was gone. The last few nights were spent with Kira mulling over what they might do with a week of uninterrupted time together, other than the obvious. He and Kira planned a variety of activities for their itinerary, most of which were Odo’s suggestions. Kira mainly deferred to Odo’s choices since it was Odo’s first holiday. The more time Odo had spent with Kira planning, the more pleased Odo found himself becoming at the thought of getting away from it all. By the date of their departure, Odo was actually _excited_ about leaving DS9. He added that new experience to the fun of planning his very first romantic getaway.

The last stage of their departure plan had been to meet Ezri Dax so she could receive final orders from Colonel Kira. Dax met the couple at their quarters to walk them to the landing pad. What few orders Colonel Kira had for Lieutenant Dax had been relayed on the walk and now the conversation had turned to less weighty matters. Odo had been standing by the airlock for over ten minutes, holding Kira’s bags and waiting for Dax and Kira to wrap up their conversation.

Odo decided he’d waited long enough. He’d risk incurring whatever wrath came his way for interrupting if it meant they could get on with it. He cleared his throat, not too loud, but loud enough to get some attention. Dax and Kira stopped talking and looked his way.

“What?” Kira asked.

“Nerys,” Odo said, “can we go? These bags are getting heavy.”

That was a contrivance, of course. Odo was a Changeling. Such physical inconveniences were never an inconvenience, but humanoids liked excuses.

“I guess someone’s eager to start his vacation,” Kira said to Dax. “I’d better get going.”

“Seven full days in a tropical paradise,” Dax said. “I am so jealous. Are you sure I can’t come with you?”

Kira chuckled as she reached around Dax to punch her overrides into the airlock control panel. “Oh, I’m very sure you can’t come with us,” she said. “That would be counterproductive to my plans, which hinge on getting Odo away from the rest of you so I can have him all to myself. I plan to keep this man _very_ busy on his vacation.”

Ezri looked up at Odo, grinning wickedly. “Oh, poor Odo,” she said. “She’s so cruel to make you work on your vacation.”

 _"So_ much work,” Kira added, her grin as wicked as Ezri’s. “Nothing but work, work, work, all week long.”

No one was talking about work, of course. Such banter usually made Odo uncomfortable, but he’d grown accustomed to it with Dax. For once, he was in the mood to play along.

“Actually, I look forward to it,” Odo said. He leaned closer to Ezri. “I _love_ it when Nerys makes me work.”

“I’ll bet you do,” Ezri replied, grinning. “Seriously, you two, have fun. Enjoy yourselves. Everything will be fine here; I’ll see to it.”

“Thanks, Ezri,” Kira said, “but I’m not worried at all. You know what you’re doing. Like I said, though, just keep an eye on Ensign Baker? She’s been making a lot of mistakes lately, which isn’t like her. Maybe you can find out what‘s bothering her while I’m gone?”

“Will do,” Dax said.

Kira smiled and opened her arms to embrace Ezri. Ezri hugged Kira. Ezri then turned to Odo. Odo’s arms were still busy holding Kira’s bags, so he couldn’t gracefully deflect Ezri’s approach, and he was too late. He got hugged, too. Odo tolerated the personal contact with the same level of patience he had for the bantering—barely, and only from Dax.

Odo tolerated the hug for a few seconds, but his comfort level was quickly exceeded. He disliked public displays of affection. Besides, he wanted to leave. He blew a puff of air at the top of Ezri’s head, ruffling the fine brown fringe across her brow.

“Go’way, Dax.”

Ezri giggled. “Okay,” she said, and let him go.

After Ezri released Odo, and after a last round of goodbyes, Ezri left for Ops. Odo and Kira crossed the airlock and boarded their runabout. Nerys had booked the _Rio Grande_ , a good choice and Odo’s personal favorite. The _Rio Grande_ was the most reliable of the station’s runabouts. The little ship had taken a serious beating during its time on DS9 and still lived to tell the tale.

Odo took Kira’s bags to the back of the _Rio Grande’s_ cabin and secured them. He then joined Kira at the helm. He sat in the co-pilot's chair, ready to do his duty, but the control panel was still dark. He looked up at a grinning Kira. Now what was she up to?

“What?” Odo said.

“You’re flying,” Kira said.

“You’re kidding,” Odo returned. “You hate letting anyone else fly.”

“The only reason we got the use of a runabout for this trip is that I used you as an excuse. You’re ten hours behind on your flight log, Security Chief.”

“Really? That many?”

“Yup,” Kira replied. “So, you will be flying today, unless you want the militia to suspend your pilot’s license.”

Odo did not, if only for the sake of his pride. He held the record for the shortest completion of pilot’s certification training in Bajoran militia history. When Kira had administered his combat flight training, she had deemed him a natural pilot, which Odo thought had been a bit of flattery on her part. Odo knew he was competent but he would never be anywhere near her level of skill. That he’d been head-over-heels in unrequited love with his flight instructor and wanted to impress her more than he wanted the license was the key to his success. That, and his gift for memorizing safety regulations.

“Very well," Odo said. "I'm flying. Computer, begin start-up sequence.”

The computer chirped and the control panel activated. Starfleet runabouts were so simple to operate, even Odo felt like an expert. However, it always took him a moment to adjust his Bajoran-oriented language processes accustomed to using Cardassian technology to adapt to Starfleet computer displays. The universal translator helped, but only so much. It was a matter of kinetics more than linguistics.

Odo’s hands hovered over the panels as he oriented himself. When he was ready, he warmed up the engines. When the engines were ready, Odo requested clearance.

“Odo to Ops,” he called. “ _Rio Grande_ requesting launch clearance from landing pad six. Destination, Bajor prime.”

It was Ezri who answered. _“Rio Grande, you are clear for departure. We’ll see you in one week. Colonel Kira, I briefed Captain Sisko about your vacation plans. He says he hopes you both have fun, but asks that you please try to return his security chief in one piece.”_

“I make no promises,” Kira replied. “Don’t burn the station down while I’m gone.”

_“I make no promises. Dax, out.”_

Odo rolled his eyes. Banter in an airlock hallway was one thing, but over the Ops comm, it was another. “Is our personal life really so important that it needs to be discussed over official channels of communication?”

“It’s not that it’s important,” Kira replied. “It’s the novelty that you have one, Odo.”

“There’s nothing novel about it,” Odo replied stiffly. “I was just waiting for the right partner.”

Kira grinned and leaned across the controls to kiss his cheek. “Fly, partner,” she said. “Get us outta here.”

Still grinning, Kira slid back into her seat. The landing pad doors opened. The launching platform raised the runabout into open space. Odo released the docking clamps and let the runabout drift away from the station’s hull. He engaged the thrusters, neatly turned the shuttle’s nose in the right direction, and gently pushed away from DS9. Once they were clear of the station, Odo engaged the impulse engines and raised the ship to an appropriate cruising speed. Odo and Kira were finally and officially on course for Bajor and their well-deserved vacation.

“As usual, Constable, a take-off as smooth as a Changeling’s bottom.”

“Thank you, Colonel,” Odo replied. “On both counts. Bajor will be apparent in approximately three standard hours. Until then, you are free to move about the cabin.”

“Why, thank you, sir,” Kira replied. She stood. “I’m getting a tea, then.”

Kira kissed the top of Odo’s head and went to the replicator to get her tea. When she returned, she resumed her seat and made light conversation with Odo as he piloted the shuttle. Odo manually guided the shuttle through the Bajoran system at a fast but still safe pace, as was his style, and for once, Kira didn’t poke fun at him for it. Kira preferred terrifying as her cruising speed and usually ribbed Odo about his cautiousness. However, on this trip, she seemed to be along for the leisurely ride.

The couple’s mutual good mood and an unimpeded flight path made their trip to Bajor easy and enjoyable. Odo was enjoying his time with Kira so much, he was almost disappointed when the planet came into range, but then he remembered Kira’s oceanview holoimage and found himself growing excited again. On the rare occasions he’d had the opportunity to be planetside, Odo preferred to take forms that could fly and take himself to the skies. He had always reveled in the liberating sensation of having air beneath his wings. However, Odo also enjoyed the water. Swimming in the ocean was as close to experiencing the formlessness of the Link as Odo could currently get. Living on a space station didn’t offer much opportunity to indulge. There were always the holosuites, but a holographic ocean wasn’t the same as the real thing. It wasn’t _alive_ like the real thing. The real, living ocean was one of the first places Odo wanted to visit.

Bajor’s familiar green-and-blue globe filled the runabout’s viewscreen and Odo adjusted speed to prepare for planetary approach. Kira transmitted her identification codes and their ship was cleared to enter Bajor’s orbit. Broaching Bajor’s atmosphere was as smoothly managed by Odo as the rest of the flight. Once the ship crossed the atmospheric limit, he descended in a well-controlled slope to atmospheric cruising altitude, flying just above the cloud line.

Kira entered the planetary coordinates for the Latara into the computer’s navigation program. Odo followed the computer’s guidance as they made their way to the planet's southern region. At the correct coordinates, Odo dropped altitude again in preparation for landing.

The ship broke through the clouds and the immense sapphire expanse of Bajor’s Maldonian Ocean appeared below. Odo held course over the Maldonian Straights until he eventually came to solid ground, and even his customary skepticism couldn’t mar the view. Kira hadn’t been exaggerating. The Maldonian Islands were gorgeous.

Beneath the runabout was an island chain paradise, lush, tropical, and mountainous, bordered by green-blue waters that were clear as glass even kilometers from shore. From the runabout view, it was like looking down into an aquarium, sea life displayed below them in miniature as they made their fly-over. Odo dipped the runabout lower so they could see the sea life a bit closer. He envisioned himself shifting into something that would fit in with the local aquatics and swimming those inviting waters like a native.

As they continued their flyover, Odo spotted an island that boasted four massive waterfalls jetting white spray from black and green mountain heights into lagoons below, which then fed long, snaking rivers, which split off and spilled into even more picturesque waterfalls and fantasy lagoons. Kira told him the region was full of such fresh-water wonders and visiting a couple of the more famous ones was on their itinerary.

The isolated geography of the island chains and the natural barrier of the island mountains had left the region mostly uninhabited, but it wasn’t totally untouched. The island of Jamal was the region’s capital seat. As they flew over Jamalo’s central city, Odo could make out the familiar pointed minarets of Bajoran architecture, the earth tones of Bajoran building stone, and minuscule humanoid figures dotted among the structures. Odo was flooded with a sudden feeling of nostalgia. Of coming home. For Odo, the feeling was disconcerting, disheartening, and threatened to devolve into sadness. After all, Bajor wasn’t really his home.

“The Latara is just ahead, Odo.”

Kira’s voice pulled him back to the present. “Acknowledged,” he said.

The Latara Resort had its own landing pad. Odo hailed the hotel’s control operator. The operator accepted their request to land and transmitted coordinates. In Starfleet streamlined fashion, the computer integrated the coordinates for the landing pad into the ship’s flight plan.

The island of Latara soon came into view. Latara was one of the larger islands in the chain and boasted the most habitable land mass next to Jamalo. Odo flew the shuttle over a small village, no pointed towers to be seen, but urban enough to be a place of interest. Odo’s navigational array told him to drop speed and tilt right. He did so, and as he gracefully navigated around the slope of another tree-covered mountain, he and Kira were given their first view of the Latara Monastery.

The largest mountain of Latara Island was called Mo’ad. Its majestic cliffs were black volcanic rock like the rest of the islands. The monastery, however, was made of clean, white stone and seamlessly built against the existing rockface. It was as though the structure had been envisioned by Mo’ad itself and donned by the mountain like a crown. The architecture of the building was still towered and spired, but different than Bajoran Traditional. Four interconnected round towers composed the main building. Each tower was topped by an onion-shaped silver dome. Odo recognized the architectural style as belonging to Bajor’s Al’ada Modern period, not always a popular aesthetic choice, but one Odo had always admired simply for its rarity.

“Wow,” Odo said. “Neat.”

“Now you know why I wanted you to see this place,” Kira replied.

Odo spotted the hotel’s landing pad, cut out of the cliff face to the left of the monastery. Further guidance from the computer showed him where to land. A ground crew helped flag him in, and Odo neatly and perfectly set the shuttle down in its assigned space. He powered down the runabout’s engines and turned to Kira.

“Well, that’s that,” Odo said. “We made it.”

“And now you can log three hours and forty-five minutes of flight time,” Kira added.

“I love it when we multitask.”

“I know you do.”

Kira got up from her seat and went to the back of the cabin. She came back with her bags, the carry straps slung over one shoulder. Odo raised a brow at her, pointed at the bags, and held out his hand, which Kira promptly scoffed at.

“Odo, I am perfectly capable of carrying my own bags."

“I am perfectly aware of that,” Odo said, “and that is exactly why I like it when you let me do it.”

“Odo, it’s fine, really, I got it.”

Odo got up from the pilot’s chair and made the short cross to Kira. She stood her ground, still refusing to give up the bags. She was trying very hard to maintain her pout as she glared up at him but Odo could see it was already starting to fade. Slowly, he reached forward and slipped his fingers under the shoulder straps of her bags. He gave the straps a gentle tug and pulled her against his chest.

“Spoiling you is half the fun of being with you, you know. So let me have my fun.”

Kira’s pout finally gave way, sliding into a smile. “This, from the man who thought he needed advice from a hologram on how to get laid.”

“Not anymore,” he growled, tilting his head towards hers.

“No, not anymore,” she murmured.

Odo’s mouth swept Kira’s in a sweet, light brush. She opened her mouth and turned his sweet brush into a deeper, more lingering kiss. She ended it with a very promising nip on his lower lip. When they parted, she was still smiling.

Kira turned away from Odo and walked to the shuttle door. She opened the door and stepped out. Odo stepped out behind her, the straps of Kira’s bags slung over his shoulder.

Colonel Kira and Security Chief Odo stepped off their Starfleet runabout and were welcomed to the Latara Monastery by a Bajoran goddess. A smiling vision of femininity wearing a traditional Bajoran silk gown and mantle the exact color of the aquamarine sea was standing a few meters away from the runabout’s door. She was flanked on her right by a middle-aged blonde woman with a pert nose and pleasant aspect, wearing a modern, pastel blue business suit. On the goddess’s left was a thin, sallow-looking man with light brown hair, wearing a nondescript brown tunic and trousers.

Odo didn’t know the goddess’s attendants at all, but he certainly knew her. A uniformed hotel clerk stepped forward and took Kira’s bags from Odo, but Odo barely heeded him. He couldn’t take his gaze off the woman in aquamarine silk.  

The woman smiling knowingly at Odo and Kira was tall, statuesque, and to Odo’s eye, perfectly formed in every way. She had long, dark curling hair, bronze skin, black eyes framed by thick lashes, and a long, sensuously arched neck, which sloped gracefully to her rounded shoulders. As she waited for Kira and Odo to disembark the shuttle, she stood patiently with a self-possessed air, her dark gaze radiating a warm, calm wisdom that was incongruous with her youthful aspect. Odo remembered this composed, beautiful young woman and her gracious air quite well. After all they went through together, how could Odo not remember Hadara Mari?

“Hello, Odo,” Hadara greeted. Her smile grew broader as Odo and Kira crossed the pavement. “Welcome to the Latara. It is so wonderful to see you again.”

“Again?” Kira murmured. “You know her?”

Odo didn’t answer. He was still gaping at Hadara, shell-shocked at this unexpected reunion. And not exactly pleased by it. One of Odo’s least favorite things in the universe was being caught off-guard.

“He does know me," Hadara said, "though it has been several years since we last spoke. When I saw your names on the reservation list, I just had to greet you personally.” Hadara made the short bow of greeting. “Harada Mari, exo-planetary public relations specialist to the First Minister’s office.”

“Colonel Kira Nerys,” Kira replied. “I guess that means you also know First Minister Shakaar?”

“Not directly,” Hadara replied. “I was appointed through the commerce secretary’s office.”

“Ah,” Kira replied. “And how do you know Odo?”

“We met several years ago on Terok Nor, when the station still belonged to the Cardassians.” Hadara’s smile faded. “There was…some unpleasantness. Odo helped me escape it. I owe him my life.” She turned to Odo. “Though by his silence, perhaps he does not recall these events?”

Odo grew even more inhibited at Hadara’s gentle prompting, although his trepidation had nothing to do with Hadara herself. Hadara Mari was part of his Terok Nor past, a past that no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t seem to put behind him. A past he hadn’t at all expected to be blindsided with at an island resort. Seeing Hadara again was triggering the paranoid, guilt-ridden, trapped-animal feeling that had pervaded his entire career with the Cardassians. Hadara was looking at him hopefully, expectantly, waiting for some recognition of their shared history, and Odo owed it to her, but he found himself retreating into the hard, cold outer shell that had helped him survive those dark years.

Kira’s hand slipped into his. Her touch stopped that shell from solidifying. However Odo viewed his past, his feelings shouldn’t be visited on Hadara. Odo knew she’d been through enough already. Besides, this was supposed to be a vacation, a happy time. He accepted Kira’s hand and shoved down his surfacing memories of Terok Nor, determined his past would not overshadow his present.

“Of course, I remember you,” Odo replied. “It is good to see you looking so well, Hadara. You look…well... _plump.”_

Kira's nails dug painfully into Odo’s hand. She glared up at him. Hadara, however, tossed her beautiful head back and laughed.

“Still a man of few words, I see,” Hadara said, “but they are the right ones.” Her mirth faded, but her smile remained. “Thank you for the compliment. It is good to see you, too, my friend.”

A small cough sounded. Hadara looked over her shoulder. “Oh!” she said, “I forget myself, forgive me. Please allow me to introduce the hotel’s concierge, Vinna Rem, and our resident historian, Master Pogran Kald.”

The blonde woman in the business suit sprang eagerly toward Kira and Odo. “It is an _incredible_ honor to have two such distinguished guests at the Latara,” Vinna said. “I am so, _so_ pleased you chose to stay with us. Please, if you need anything—anything at all—call me personally, day or night. Whatever need you express shall be attended to immediately. Simply name it, and it will be done. I am so, _so_ thrilled you are here.”

It was Kira’s turn to squirm. Overly friendly people made her nervous. “I’m sure we’ll be fine,” Kira said, “but thank you, Vinna.”

Master Pogran stepped forward, though with far less eagerness. He made a short bow to Kira and then turned to Odo. As he met Odo’s gaze, Pogran’s expression was one of disgust hidden behind a thin veil of politeness, a reaction Odo was not unused to given his heritage. The immediate revulsion was mutual, though. ‘Odious’ was Odo’s first-impression word for Pogran Kald.

Pogran straightened from his bow and his gaze darted back to Kira. His expression shifted slightly, to one of interest. Pogran's interest made Odo distinctly uncomfortable. Odo wrapped his arm around Kira’s shoulders and returned Pogran's too-interested stare with an icy, warning glare.

Pogran blinked once, unfazed, and turned to Hadara. “You’ve wasted enough of my time with this nonsense, and I have indulged it as you asked. I must go. The library will not catalog itself. Do not disturb me again for such petty matters.”

Hadara flinched at Pogran’s rudeness. She nodded once. Without a glance back for the “distinguished” guests, Pogran stormed off.

“I apologize,” Hadara said to Kira and Odo. “Master Pogran can be uneasy in new company. He is, however, a brilliant historian. He has been instrumental in the restoration of the monastery and the surrounding grounds. This project would not have been possible without his knowledge.”

“Is that what you’re doing here?” Odo asked. “Heading the restoration?”

“Among other things, yes,” Hadara replied. “The Latara restoration project is a joint effort between the Bajoran government and the private business sector. Off-world investing partners were permitted to bid on this project for the first time in Bajoran history. The First Minister’s office assigned me here to facilitate public relations during the hotel’s first years of operation.”

“Keeping our guests outside in this heat isn’t facilitating public relations,” Vinna chided. She smiled at Kira and Odo. “Please, won’t you come inside?”

“Oh, yes, please,” Hadara added, flustered again. “I don’t know where my manners are today. Vinna is right. We’ve kept you at the gates too long. Please, come this way.”

Hadara and Vinna guided Odo and Kira to the hotel’s entrance. The late-day heat prompted Kira to shrug out of the travel jacket she was wearing. She tied the sleeves of the jacket around her waist as Vinna and Hadara made small talk. Hadara asked about Odo and Kira’s journey, about their plans for their stay, how they liked Latara Island so far, the kind of filler questions humanoids always seemed to find a need to ask and that Odo avoided asking unless they had pertinence. Kira didn’t mind small talk as much and was much better at it, so as usual, Kira did the answering for them both.

As the party walked closer to the main building, Odo admired the architecture of the monastery. Flecks and streaks of silver were threaded through the monastery’s white stone walls. Odo realized the towers were built out of marble block. It was a rare material on Bajor and to see so much of it in one place was especially rare. Even though the stone was a cool white, the naturalness of the material lent a warmth to the structure, a warmth lacking in Odo’s usual alloyed, deep-space environment.

Per Kira, the main building of the monastery had stood on this mountain for over three thousand years. Odo had to wonder how ancient builders had gotten so much stone up the face of a beachside cliff to create the monastery. Ancient structures were common on Bajor as Bajorans tended to take care of the things they built, and the Latara seemed very well cared for. The building was aging, but gracefully so.

Odo craned his neck to follow the first tower’s white stone wall up to its metallic domed top. A slice of refracted light blinded him and he tilted his head to avoid it, trying to see the metal underneath. The metal had no patina, reflecting the sunlight of its glazed top as if it had been newly sheeted. It was possible the metal was replaced during the restoration, but even that didn’t explain the flawless, smooth, mirror-like polish on the dome. Odo was curious which metal was used to cover it. It couldn’t be a precious metal, he reasoned. They were too soft. It must be an alloy of some kind, but what type of alloy would ancient builders have used? They must—

“Odo.”

Odo started at the sound of Kira’s voice. He took his gaze off the tower. All three women were staring at him with bemused expressions. He realized he had stopped walking at some point and was a few meters behind. The women had reached the hotel entrance and were waiting for him to catch up.  

If Odo could have blushed, he would have. It wasn’t like him to get so lost in his surroundings. He hid his embarrassment in a casual walk to the door, acting as if he’d meant to be gawking and lollygagging like a tourist. Which was fair anyhow, because today, he was a tourist.

“Do you like the architecture, Odo?” Hadara asked. “The Latara was built during Bajor’s modern period, so it’s not always aesthetically popular.”

“I do like it,” Odo said, “though it is quite different than what I’m used to.”

“Then perhaps this would be a good time to tell you that I have arranged a private tour of the monastery and grounds for you and Colonel Kira, if you would like it.”

Odo would definitely like it. Like all old places, the Latara had a sense of mystery about it, and Odo loved a good mystery. However, a tour wasn’t on his and Kira’s planned itinerary. He looked to Kira for a decision.

“We would like that very much,” Kira replied.

“Wonderful!” Hadara said. “Would tomorrow morning at the ninth hour be convenient?”

Kira again said yes. Hadara beamed, pleased, and the four stepped forward to enter the hotel.

The hotel’s automatic, modern double doors opened onto a long, dim corridor. Odo noted they were coming in through the side entrance. A more impressive entrance was probably made from the tower’s main door. They continued down the long corridor, some of the dim chased off by old-fashioned sconces, to the hotel lobby. Though they missed their chance for a grand entrance, Odo’s first impression of the Latara’s interior was not diminished.

The center of the tower was open all the way to the domed top, giving the visual impression of grand largesse, though the tower height was only about eight floors. The hotel lobby composed the entire first floor, with the guest levels beginning on the second. What the first floor had originally been used for, Odo didn’t know, but it had been redecorated to fit the luxury hotel concept. The flooring was the original charcoal gray Bajoran slate but was warmed with several hand-woven carpets and woolen rugs in natural tones. A large circular receiving desk was at the center of the room, made of polished, reddish wood. Fine, modern furniture made of the same reddish wood and upholstered with beige linen filled the space, as well as glass-topped tables, all of it arranged in variegated clusters to create casual meeting areas. A massive firestone hearth big enough for several men to stand in was on one side of the room, but it was banked and swept clean for the season.

Odo’s gaze rose to the next level. The warm, red wood appeared again in a railing carved with traditional Bajoran scrolls and loops that ran the inner circumference of the level. Redwood doors with arched tops circled the center. Presumably, those doors opened to the guest rooms. Odo’s gaze continued upwards, all the way up, and he counted his way up the eight levels to the top, where the underside of the dome was visible. The inside of the dome had been inlaid with a multi-toned mosaic of shimmering blue and white tiles that created a mural of clouds and sky.

As was traditional of Bajoran architecture, as much natural light as possible had been allowed into the space. Each floor had four deeply recessed, massive windows. A multitude of warmly glowing, traditional-looking sconces added more light. A sleek glass lift system was built against the back curve of the tower. Odo was fairly sure a glass lift was an add-on rather than a restoration.

“Wow,” Kira said. “This place is incredible.”

Odo watched as a uniformed server passed with a tray of cocktails and took them to a group of well-dressed Bolians lounging on the far side of the lobby. He continued to watch as the server handed off the drinks to the Bolians. If he wasn’t mistaken, the family crest on one young man’s tunic was noble.

Odo leaned closer to Kira. “Just how much latinum did this vacation cost you?”

“You don’t want to know,” Kira replied.

“There are two more residential towers as beautiful as this one,” Hadara said, smiling proudly. “The fourth tower is still in remodel phase, but it should be ready within the year. We have taken as much care as possible to combine historical restoration with practical amenities to make the Latara a welcoming place. I could talk all day and all night about all we’ve done here, but I am sure you are eager to see your room. Please, Vinna, can we get them registered?”

“Of course,” Vinna replied, holding a gracious smile. “This way, please.”

Odo and Kira followed Vinna to the receiving desk. Because they were militia officers, Odo and Kira had vetted genetic profiles in the Bajoran database, so check-in was quick. One simple scan by the clerk at the desk, and they were officially registered guests of the Latara.

As the desk clerk finished Odo and Kira’s check-in, another hotel clerk approached the party, her face pinched with worry. With a brief ‘excuse me’ for Kira and Odo, she went straight to Vinna and whispered something in Vinna’s ear. Vinna’s hotelier smile remained in place as she listened, but Odo observed a light raise in her brow and a slight blanching of her features. Whatever the clerk had whispered to Vinna, it wasn’t good.

“I’m so sorry,” Vinna said, “but a matter of urgency requires my attention. I will leave you with Hadara.” She turned Hadara, leaning close to whisper in Hadara’s ear. Odo was close enough to hear her words this time as they were delivered in a sharp, admonishing hiss.

_“He’s done it again, Hadara! I warned you this would happen!”_

Hadara flinched slightly at Vinna’s words. Vinna turned away and hurried off with the clerk. Hadara turned to Kira and Odo, her smile brittle as she again found herself having to make awkward apologies.

So it was that Hadara alone escorted the hotel’s special guests to their room, with another of the hotel’s desk clerks leading the way. The party took the glass lift to the eighth level of the tower. The lift trip offered more opportunity for awkward silences. Hadara held herself stiffly on the lift, her bronze brow furrowed. She met Odo’s gaze for a brief moment and then quickly looked away.

Odo pondered the nature of Hadara’s unease. Perhaps it was just embarrassment. If the hotel clerk hadn’t been on the lift with them and it wouldn’t have caused her further embarrassment, Odo would have told Hadara she could relax. Their welcome to the hotel had been a bit odd, admittedly, but he didn’t blame Hadara. She had absolutely nothing to prove to anyone, she never had, and contrary to what she’d said to Kira, Hadara owed him nothing. To see her prosperous and well had been more than fair compensation for any past help Odo had given her.

The lift stopped on the top floor. Nerys really had gone all-out. They were apparently staying in one of the penthouse suites. Hadara, Kira, and Odo followed the clerk off the lift and continued to follow him as he led them around the curved walkway. Odo hung back from the women as they walked—deliberately this time—to allow space for Kira and Hadara to chat. Odo figured the more they talked to one another, the less explaining he’d have to do for Kira later, although they ended up chatting about nothing of consequence. Kira was admiring the wooden beads wrapped around Hadara’s wrist, and Hadara was telling Kira about the village artist she’d bought them from.

The party arrived at the door to Kira and Odo’s room. The hotel clerk gestured to a small metal square next to it. “Wave your hand over this panel,” the clerk said to Kira. “The locking mechanism is keyed to the guest’s genetic profile.”

Kira waved her hand over a small metal panel. An audible click sounded as the locking mechanism released. The wooden door eased open. The hotel clerk pushed the door open fully, stepping aside as he invited Odo and Kira into the room. As they passed him, he reminded them to contact the desk should they need anything. Hadara dismissed the clerk with her thanks, and the clerk headed back to the lift.

Hadara waited until the clerk was gone before she spoke. “I will leave you both here so you can enjoy your privacy,” she said, hovering at the door. “But before I go, I do have a request. I was wondering if you would both have dinner with me tomorrow night. I have an important matter I need some advice about. I know that sounds ominous, and I know you’re here on holiday, but I’ve had no one else I could consult. It’s almost as if it’s the Prophet’s will I should see you again now, Odo, after all these years, and I…well, I…”

“Why don’t you come in and discuss the matter now?” Odo asked. “I’d be happy to help you if I can.”

Hadara’s mouth pressed into a grim line. “I can’t discuss the matter now, not while we’re in the hotel. It is delicate and I don’t want to risk being overheard. It involves a possible legal matter.”

Kira looked between Hadara and Odo, frowning. “Listen, Odo is here on vacation, and I really don’t think—“

“Before you say no, I want you to know I do plan to make it worth your while. I want to invite you to dinner in the village. I know of a family-owned restaurant that makes the best _ratamba_ stew on Bajor. They cook all dishes from fresh ingredients, no replication.”

“I love ratamba stew,” Kira said.

“I know,” Hadara replied, biting her lip. “I admit, I did a little digging before you came. Your profile from the social database was remarkably thin—almost nonexistant—but it did include your favorite foods. I promise, allow me this one evening to intrude on your time with your partner and it will be worth the sacrifice. I would never lie about good ratamba stew.”

“Do they by chance have _ploma_ cake at this restaurant?” Kira asked.

Hadara grinned. “They do now. I recently suggested it,” she said.

“You did do your homework,” Kira replied. She couldn’t help but smile back. “I guess we’re having dinner together tomorrow. That is, if Odo says it’s okay.”

“Odo says it’s okay,” Odo said.

“Wonderful!” Hadara said. “Then may I meet you in the lobby at the seventh hour tomorrow night?”

Kira and Odo agreed. Hadara’s smile was radiant. She made her goodbyes. She kissed Kira on each cheek and gave Odo’s hand a brief squeeze.

“I cannot wait until to tomorrow,” she said. “I really am so happy to see you again, Odo, I...”

The radiance of Hadara’s smile faded quickly and the slightest glimmer of tears shimmered in her eyes. Before they welled in full, and before Odo could ask about them, Hadara turned away. She whispered out a last goodbye over her shoulder and traveled swiftly down the walkway in a whirl of dark curls and green-blue silk.

Odo almost followed Hadara, brought her back, but thought better of it. Seeing Odo again, remembering the last time they saw one another and the horrific events of that day couldn’t have been easy for her. Her composure thus far had been remarkable, especially if she had even further troubles on her mind. Odo thought it best to let Hadara be. He would see her tomorrow and they would have plenty of time to talk then.

Kira gently closed the door and turned to Odo. “Well, that was an odd way to start our vacation,” she said.

Odo answered with a noncommittal grunt. Naturally, Kira had questions, Odo could see them in her eyes, but he quickly turned the conversation before she got the first one out. He wasn't quite ready to talk about Hadara. Instead, he made a deflecting comment about the handsomeness of their room. Kira followed his lead and let him change the subject. For now.

The room really was handsome, though. Complimenting it hadn’t only been a deflection. Odo was quite pleased with his cursory survey and began to look deeper at their luxurious surroundings. Their segment of the tower's ring was in the open suite style and was divided by function rather than walls. At the center of the semi-circular room, more fine redwood furniture created a living area. To Odo’s right was a desk with a computer interface, the door to a small closet, and beyond that, the door to a private bathroom. A small breakfast table was positioned near the room’s ocean view. A bowl of fresh, brightly colored local fruits had been placed in the center of the table.

Kira’s bags had been brought in and set on a chest that was at the foot of one of the room’s best features—the bed. An antique, carved-wood bedstead with a plush mattress, a cream-colored coverlet, and piles of soft pillows took up one whole side of the room. The effect was inviting and romantic enough to make Odo jealous he wouldn’t be sleeping in it.

Kira expressed her mutual delight of the bed. She walked over to it and bent at the waist to test its lux. Odo watched her hand pass lightly over the soft cloud of the pillows, watched her lean her weight into the plush loft of the bedding. She bunched the pristine white cloth of the coverlet between her fingers and smiled. That little cloth-filled fist was a consolation to Odo. It reminded him that he would have plenty of opportunity to enjoy that bed in other ways.

Odo looked away from Kira and the bed before he sidetracked them both and turned to the room’s best feature, a large, seaward-facing viewing window. Or should Odo call it a wall? The curved outer wall of the room was one large window, seamless and frameless. Beyond the tinted glass was a grand view of the Mal’adan Sea and Kira’s promised private terrace. The terrace was furnished with two oversized upholstered lounge chairs and a small, low table. The tableau of the view reminded Odo very much of the holoimage that had originally enticed his interest in this trip.

Odo crossed the room to the window. A section of glass dissolved to let him through to the terrace, no commands necessary. He stepped through and looked back. The illusion had solidified. From the outside, the window appeared as a white stone wall that protected the privacy of the guests.

“Wow,” Odo said. “Neat.”

Kira stepped through the glass to let Odo know she was unpacking her things. Odo barely heeded her as took in their premium view. The late-day sky was a surreal cerulean hue, a color so saturated and idyllic it seemed as unreal as the window-wall. From the tower’s heights, Odo could see the shore stretched out below him, a pristine white swath cut against blue-green waves that ran on for kilometers. A thin tourist population peppered the length of the strand. Odo moved closer to the terrace railing and turned his face into the fresh blast of the sea breeze. He briefly considered turning into a hawk and letting the wind have him, but he remembered Nerys. If he went flying off, she’d be left alone.

Odo heard Kira’s footfalls behind him, but he didn’t turn away from the view. Kira joined Odo at the terrace edge. They were quiet for a time, taking in the fresh air together and absorbing the last of the day's sunshine. Genuine daylight seeped through Odo’s humanoid shell and warmed his matrix to the core, a comfort he didn't know he’d been missing. It was made even better by the comfort of Kira’s hip pressed companionably against his.

“Are you happy with your vacation so far?” Kira asked.

“Yes,” Odo replied. “It’s beautiful here.”

“I was right to bring you? Even with who we just ran into?”

“Who we ran into is not your fault, Nerys. How could you have known? I was surprised to see Hadara here, but obviously, I’m getting over it.”

“Hadara Mari was a big surprise to me, too. Are you going to let me in on your history with this  mysterious friend of yours?”

Odo heaved a heavy sigh. “It’s a long story, Nerys, and a dark one. Do I have to tell it right now?”

“Not if you don’t want to,” Kira replied. “I am curious about her, though. And, I admit, I’m also a bit jealous. Your mysterious friend is absolutely stunning and obviously pretty fond of you.”

The breeze whipped a strand of Kira’s dark hair over her eyes. Odo raised his hand to brush it away. His hand lingered to caress her cheek.

“Nerys, you have nothing to be jealous about.”

“I know,” Kira replied. She took a step closer to Odo and circled her arms around his waist. Her upturned gaze took on a mischievous glint. “You should know, though, you’re not the only one keeping secrets on this vacation. I’ve been hiding something from you, too.”

“Oh? What’s that?” Odo said.

“My blue bathing suit,” Kira replied. She pushed up on her toes to whisper in his ear. “My secret is that I’ve had it on under these clothes this whole time.”

Well, that was a mood booster. Odo had yet to see Kira in the stringy little bathing suit that started all of this. “I’m sorry, but I can’t just take your word for that,” he said. “I’m afraid I’ll need to see some proof.”

Kira grinned and turned back to the room. She took Odo’s hands and tugged, encouraging him to follow her.

“Come investigate for yourself, Constable. I’m sure you’ll find all the proof you need.”

Odo let Kira lead him back into their room, eager to begin his investigation. Being the excellent detective that he was, and being the lover of mystery that he was, Odo did a thorough job examining what was under Kira’s clothes. Odo’s hearty enthusiasm over his discoveries and his wish to share that enthusiasm with Kira made the evidence overwhelmingly conclusive. Kira Nerys, indeed, had absolutely nothing to be jealous about.

Afterward, they lingered in bed together and watched the sun finish its descent from the sky. When it was gone, they discussed getting up and setting themselves an activity, but they realized they had no obligation to be anywhere they didn’t want to be, and they both wanted to be exactly where they were. So, they stayed in bed together and enjoyed their own company. They talked, Kira ate, they talked some more, and their second round of lovemaking was sweet, lazy, and joyful, and not once did Odo think about dark pasts or the mysteries of the present, nor did he concern himself with how they might affect his future. He was concerned with no other moment in time except the one that existed around him and his lover.

Vacation, Odo decided, was a wonderful thing.

 


	3. Chapter 3

The next morning, Odo woke from his regeneration cycle in as pleasant a mood as he’d entered it. Nerys had packed his bucket for him, so he’d regenerated in familiar surroundings. The bucket’s smooth, well-worn contours were the same ones he’d rested next to for the last several years, and Odo took comfort in the constancy. Odo’s relationship with his bucket was one of the longest relationships he’d had with anything solid and it had become an important part of his life. Odo found his attachment to an inanimate object somewhat too humanoid a failing but still indulged it. After all, he had to sleep somewhere.

On the morning they were to leave the station, Nerys had packed the bucket for him inside her duffle. Before she put the bucket in her duffle, she set it on her bed and began filling it with her underthings. According to her, the idea was to save space in her bag and have one less thing to carry, but Odo found the act one of the most intimate gestures he’d ever seen her make. The sight of Nerys’s lace and straps and cottons and satins nestled inside his bucket sent a rush of emotions through him, a flash-burn blend of tenderness and gratitude fused with a healthy measure of pure lust. Odo was inspired to act mostly on the latter as he caught Nerys and tumbled her to the bed. Consequently, Nerys was delayed from her packing, but she did not at all find the delay an inconvenience.

Thinking about yesterday morning, and the night they’d just had together, Odo felt that same lusty flash fire through his matrix and the last lazy remnants from his regeneration cycle were burned away. He was fully awake and highly motivated to leave the comfort of his bucket to seek the much finer comfort of his lover’s body. 

Still, he hesitated. Nerys was probably still asleep. He would have to wake her if he wanted to follow through on his intentions, which might not bring about the best outcome. He risked exposing himself to Nerys’s wrath by waking her before dawn, but he knew from prior experience that even if he did make her mad, she wouldn’t stay mad once he made it clear what he was waking her for. As often as they disagreed about other things, when it came to sex, he and Nerys were almost always on the same page. Conclusively, the benefits in this instance outweighed the risks. He decided he’d take his chances and wake Nerys. 

Odo poured himself out his bucket in a smooth, amber flow. He reached upward for the edge of the bed. He clung to the sheet to pull himself out and up and made his way up toward Nerys. He reached the top edge of the mattress. Gentle, even wafts of breath rippled the surface of his natural state. He concluded Nerys was laying on her side. He slipped around her head, over the pillow, under the top sheet, and then glided down the bed to settle in the hollow behind her lower back.

Odo took a moment to appreciate that warm little hollow Nerys’s body made and how perfectly he fit there. The sensual rasp of her bare skin against his bare self reminded him of the task at hand. He began his transformation to humanoid form. His increased mass dipped the mattress. An annoyed little whimper slipped from Nerys’s mouth. Odo wrapped his newly formed arms around her and held her close, skin-to-skin. She settled immediately back to sleep. Her head was cradled peacefully in the crook of his arm, a squeaky little snore whirred from her ridged little nose, and Odo changed his mind. He couldn’t possibly wake her now.

As Odo’s lover slept peacefully in his embrace, he closed his eyes and let his thoughts drift. They meandered pleasantly, without direction, without intent, until an increase in room temperature prompted him back to the present. He opened his eyes and looked out the window. The color of the sky had transformed from pre-dawn gray to a stunning array of oranges, pinks, and golds. A planetary sunrise. When was the last time he’d seen a real sunrise? Had he ever seen one like this?

Nerys pulled in a deep, full breath and arched her body into a long stretch. Odo loosened his hold and gave her some space, but she just wriggled her way back to him. Her eyes opened slowly, blinked, and found the sky.

“Oh, wow,” she croaked. “So beautiful.”

Odo kissed her hair. “You’re beautiful.”

“I don’t know about that, not this early, but I certainly feel beautiful. I slept like a baby.” She lifted his hand to her lips and kissed it. “Did you rest okay?”

“I did,” Odo replied. “Thank you again for packing my bucket.”

“You’re welcome.”

Their conversation faded as they watched the sunrise together. Early light painted Nerys’s pale skin palest gold and illuminated every deep, earthy detail of her eyes. Her dark hair gleamed fiery red where the sun touched it. The curves of her body were pressed to the planes of his, their shared body heat pleasant and comforting, the sheets covering them cool and light. Odo thought it quite possible this peaceful sunrise moment with Nerys was one of the most perfect moments he’d ever had the privilege to live in. And if he wanted to, he could relive it six more times before their vacation was over.

Nerys sucked in a sharp gasp. “Computer, time?” The computer called an answer. She relaxed. “Oh, thank goodness. I thought we were late.”

“For what?”

“For your tour. Did you forget?”

Odo had, and once she mentioned it, reality closed in on him. Memory caught up with him. He had been the one who had encouraged a guided tour of the Latara, but now that it was imminent, he found he’d lost his enthusiasm. He didn’t want to go anywhere. He was perfectly happy right where he was.

Nerys rolled her body up into a sitting position and stretched again. “I need a shower,” she said. She turned back to Odo and grinned at him over her shoulder. “Wanna join me?”

“Sonic or water?”

“Water, of course.”

“I’m in,” Odo said and sat up. He got out of bed and followed Nerys to the bathroom.

Odo didn’t actually need to bathe. He was self-cleaning, but occasionally, he enjoyed the physical pleasure of a real-water shower. During his time as a humanoid, he’d stuck to the sonic as it was the most effective method to get clean, and he’d liked it just fine, but to a Changeling, the sonic shower was painful at certain pitches. Nerys liked hers pitched quite high, so he stayed far away. On their first morning waking together as a couple, Nerys suggested the compromise of taking a water shower so they could both participate. The shower fit right in with Odo’s love of the aquatic, and he’d taken delight in her diplomatic solution. He liked it even more when they took long baths together. Longs baths with Nerys were especially delightful.

Today, though, it was a regular shower, or as regular as a shower could be in such surroundings. Odo found the bathroom to be as luxuriously and tastefully designed as the rest of the room. The bathroom floor plan was spacious and open. The walls and floor were tiled with small stone squares in a multitude of neutrals ranging from darkest brown to lightest cream. The fixtures were rustic and simple, and the basin was natural stone. However, where the shower stall or tub should be was a blank, open space.

Odo gaze searched the room, trying to solve the mystery. Where was the shower? He spotted a computer control panel on an adjoining wall. It was his only clue in this case, so Odo walked to the panel to follow up on the lead as Kira took care of other business.           

At the control panel, Odo read over the menu screen. He made a decision and tapped an icon. He heard soft sound of shifting photonic energy, saw the walls and floors in the blank space begin to ripple and change, much like being inside a holosuite when a program was loading. Before Odo’s eyes, the hotel computer manifested a large spa tub filled with bubbly, warm water within the blank space. 

“Wow,” Odo said. “Neat.”

Odo examined the computer control panel again. He tapped a different icon. The tub and its contents disappeared without a trace. Another tap. A mud bath appeared. Tap. The mud was gone. Another tap made water jets appear on the walls at staggered intervals.

Kira came up behind him. She wrapped her arms around his waist. “Are you done playing?” she asked.

“No,” Odo said. He made the water jets disappear. “This is fascinating. I could do this all day.”

Kira rolled her eyes and reached around Odo to make a selection. Water began to cascade from the ceiling in gentle rain shower. She gave Odo a playful shove.

“Get in there, mister. We haven’t got all day.”

For all Kira’s urgency, the couple’s shower took far longer than it should have. The computer replicated Kira a soap dispenser along with the water. Odo watched as she held her hand under the dispenser and filled her palm with a foamy cloud of soft soap _.  _ She raised the little cloud closer to her nose.  _ L’mani _ scented, Kira told him, very nice. Odo held his hand under the dispenser and was rewarded with another puff of soap. What to do with it, though? He didn’t need any flower-scented soap, so he started using it on Kira. She let him wash her body, let him touch, let him explore, and that naturally led to other, deeper things. Her mouth grew hot and needy as it met his. His hands slid down her body, over her hips. He lifted her off her feet and pressed her back against the tiled wall. Her legs stayed hooked around his waist as he made love to her under the steamy fall of an artificial rain shower.

Nerys moaned and bucked against him as her pleasure reached its peak, and Odo’s humanoid form swiftly followed hers. He growled his pleasure against the pale, wet skin of her neck. They clung tightly to one another, bodies joined, mouths joined, lost in their shared bliss, but reality soon brought them back. They had places to go, people to see, things to do. Odo set Kira on her feet with a sigh of regret. The real world was waiting.

Odo stole one last kiss from Kira and stepped out of the shower. He put some distance between himself and the water spray and initiated a form change. An amber ripple began at the top of his head and coursed through his body, from the roots of his hair down to the tips of his toes. He dispelled the water coating his body as he simultaneously formed a casual shirt and pants appropriate for the venue and the climate. Within seconds, Odo was clean, dry, his golden blonde hair in perfectly slicked-back place and his body dressed for the day ahead, right down to the sandals on his feet.

Kira pitched her voice over the fall of the water. “I never get tired of seeing you do that,” she yelled.  

She turned her back to Odo and began washing her hair. Odo’s gaze followed the soapy slide of water as it glided down her skin. His gaze lingered on the dip of her waist, the curve of her hip, and the perfect little dimples at the base of her back. There were things he also never got tired of seeing...

_ Go, Odo, go… _

Odo hurried out of the bathroom. He stopped short just outside the door. He needed a distraction, something to do. He spotted the replicator and the fruit bowl and formed a plan of action. 

Odo crossed the main part of their hotel room to the replicator. He ordered a raktijino, hot, two measures of kava. He carefully picked up the piping hot mug from the tray and took it with him to the breakfast table. He paused to consider the contents of the fruit bowl. The hotel staff had left plates and a paring knife by the bowl. He picked up a plate and the knife and selected the brightest, heaviest piece of citrus fruit in the bunch. The  _ olvas  _ looked good, too, dark purple and ripe, so he picked up a clustered vine of those and an ovular little  _ chok’tha  _ melon and balanced it all on the plate. He took the plate of fruit and the coffee with him out to the terrace and sat down on a lounge chair. He started peeling and paring fruit as he waited for Kira.

Kira appeared on the terrace several minutes later, wearing a long white summer dress. The lightweight fabric of the skirt billowed around her legs as the sea breeze caught it, revealing a slit that ended high on the outside of her thigh. Odo had never seen Kira in anything like it before. The dress was in the Trill style, Kira informed him, very suitable for the tropical climate. Her feet were sandaled in the Bajoran style and her chin-length hair was still wet. She’d skipped the cosmetics except for a deep pink gloss on her lips. Odo thought she looked lovely, and he told her so.

Kira sat down on the other lounge chair. Odo handed her the plate, now piled with red-fleshed citrus sections, plucked olvas, and bright green melon slices. Kira thanked him with a brilliant smile and ate her breakfast. When Kira was finished, they left the terrace. Kira took a moment to recycle her dishes and clean her hands and then grabbed her sunhat. The couple made for the door and headed out to meet whoever they were to meet for their tour of the monastery.

As soon as he stepped into the hall with Kira and left the sanctuary of their room, Odo sensed something was wrong. Odo’s sensitive Changeling hearing caught the upward drift of voices all the way from the first floor. It wasn’t the pleasant hum of people in regular conversation. There was a disturbing undercurrent to the voices, an unpleasant tension and excitement, like the warning drone of a distant hive. Odo tried to dismiss his unease—it was probably nothing, a trick of acoustics, maybe—but he closed the distance between himself and Kira as they walked toward the lift.

They boarded the lift and Odo stayed close to Kira. He set his hand lightly on her waist as the lift door closed. As the lift began its descent, Odo’s unease increased. Through the clear glass floor, he could see down to the first level. People were grouped in odd bunches, some around the reception desk, others off to one side. As the lift dropped lower, the details became clearer, but still didn’t make sense. Far too many people were in the lobby at this time of day for the activity to be normal. Several humanoids in dark gray uniforms were speckled through the crowd and they—

Wait. Odo knew those colors. The Bajoran police. What were they doing here?

Odo’s grip on Kira’s waist tightened. She looked up at him. “What’s wrong?” she asked.

“I don’t know, Nerys, but I think we’re about to walk into it. When the lift stops, let me get off first.”

The lift stopped and the doors opened. Odo stepped out and Kira lingered behind, staying in the lift car. Odo had only a moment to wonder at that, that Kira had actually listened to him for once, as the deafening pitch of mixed voices drowned out anything else he was thinking about. Odo adjusted his hearing and scanned the lobby, analyzing the scene and looking for the problem. Hotel employees were scattered throughout the crowd in various states of sadness, of anger, of scandalized shock as they engaged with the guests. The guests seemed to be in the same shocked state, but Odo couldn’t find any immediate danger or explanation. He moved aside so Kira could pass him, his guard still up and his gaze still searching.  

Before he could make any further sense of the chaotic scene, Odo’s attention was drawn to the front desk. An angry crowd had swamped the central hub. The guests were gesticulating and shouting, in a hurry to check out. One frazzled hotel clerk was at the center, her mouth pinched in a tight line and her hands shaking as she rapidly tapped the keys of her computer terminal. A police officer was at the clerk’s side, her steely gaze sweeping watchfully over the crowd. 

As Odo and Kira watched, a Krellian woman shouted at the hotel clerk and picked up a decorative piece of something from the desk. She threw it at the clerk. The object barely missed the clerk’s head. It was the breaking point for the clerk. She hid her face in her hands and began to sob. The police officer used her body to shield the clerk’s and raised her riot stick as she admonished the Krellian.

“Odo, what on Bajor is going on?”

“Nerys, I don’t know.”

Odo’s focus shifted to the side of the lobby where another anxious crowd was bunched. The second crowd’s attention was cast down a hallway that led to the hotel’s administrative offices. The onlookers were separated from whatever they were gawking at by a pair of police officers, each guarding tall metal posts—police force field generators. Odo made out the faint waiver of the plasma field that divided the area from the rest of the lobby. Gray-jacketed police officers wearing phase emitters on their sleeves moved through the force field. The officers were carrying scanners, holo-imagers, and evidence kits.

_ A crime scene unit…Oh, hell. _

Odo’s feet moved him forward. Kira followed. They cut through the crowd at the crime scene. Odo barked sharply for people to  _ move aside! _ He forced his way to the front, right next to the wavering line of the force field. Odo peered through the plasma and down the hall to assess the situation.

As Odo suspected, there was a body. He couldn’t make a positive identification as a large group of officers was blocking his view. In fact, there were far too many people walking around this crime scene and none of them had the look of people who knew what they were doing. That wasn’t surprising to Odo. The Occupation had robbed Bajor of natural resources other than minerals and arable land. They’d also lost many of the planet’s mentors, advisors, professors, and craftsman. It would take Bajor generations to regain the wisdom and experience they'd lost.

A mildly handsome blonde man in his mid-thirties was coordinating the efforts of the officers. Odo’s gaze moved to the man’s sleeve and found the insignia that marked him as an inspector. This was the man in charge, then. The inspector was maintaining his composure as he ordered the other police officers about, but the tension around his eyes and in his posture told Odo he wasn't as calm as he seemed.

Finally, the group of officers shifted out of his line of sight and Odo got a look at the body. On the floor, beyond the force field and frustratingly out of his reach, Odo saw her. Laying half in, half out of the threshold of a doorway was a dark-haired woman wearing aquamarine silks. She was on her side, her back to the crowd, one arm stretched over her head. Her manicured nails were torn and the wooden bracelet she’d worn around her wrist had snapped. Brightly painted, artisan-carved beads were scattered across the gray stone floor.

“Oh, Prophets, no.”

Kira gripped his arm. “Odo, is that—“

Odo yanked his arm from Kira’s grip. He raised his fist. He slammed it against the force field. The plasma feedback jolted through his sensory cells, ran up his arm and into his face, but Odo ignored it. He pulled his fist back and hit the force field again and again and again.

The screeching ring of a disrupted forcefield got the inspector’s attention. He looked down the hall, spotted Odo at the forcefield, and walked rapidly toward him. The inspector stopped just short of the field line in front of Odo, glaring darkly at him through the wavering plasma. 

Odo pointed at his chest and formed a combadge on his shirt. The inspector—Krenn, according to his uniform jacket—gave only the slightest hint of surprise at the trick. He set his features in an expression of grim authority and activated his own combadge.

“Sir,” Inspector Krenn said, “I’m going to ask you to step back from the forcefield.”

“And I am going to ask you what is going on here,” Odo replied. “What has happened? Who is that on the floor?”

“I can’t tell you that, sir. This is an ongoing investigation. If you need assistance, see a hotel clerk.”

_ “I will not ask a clerk!  _ I’m asking you! And if you don’t tell me what I want to know, I’ll drop this force field right now and find out for myself!”

The inspector smirked. “You can’t do that, sir. And if you keep making trouble, I'll have you ejected from the hotel.”

“Actually,” Odo said, “I can do exactly that. I hold the rank of captain with the militia police. My security clearance can drop a civilian force field, which I am about to do if you don’t answer me. Then all these onlookers can trample your crime scene while I look for my own answers. Is that what you want, Inspector?”

Krenn pinched the bridge of his nose. “Prophets-damned militia,” he muttered. He heaved a sigh. He paused to take a long look at Odo. “That thing with the combadge. You’re him, aren’t you? You’re the shapeshifter from Deep Space 9.”

“Yes,” Odo replied. “Security Chief Odo, _at your service_ , Inspector.”

Krenn cursed again. “Fine,” he said. “Step through, then,  _ Captain _ . We’ll talk on this side.”

Inspector Krenn signaled to one of the guards by the force field generators. The guard made an adjustment so Odo could step through. Odo turned to Kira.

“Wait here,” Odo said. 

“But Odo, I—”

“I said  _ wait here!” _

Odo’s words came out much sharper than he’d intended. Kira had flinched from them. He felt a wave of guilt at the anger and hurt in her expression.

“All right,” she said, folding her arms over her chest. “I’ll wait. Right here.”

Odo softened his gaze and squeezed her upper arm, a gesture that was half apology, half reassurance. He turned away from Kira and took a step over the field line. The warning sizzle of the force field sparked up behind him. Inspector Krenn was already at a fair distance ahead, marching back down the hallway and away from the crowd. Odo took wide, measured strides until he caught up with him. As Odo followed Krenn down the hall, he noticed that in one of the offices, a tearful Vinna Rem was being questioned by two officers. Odo wondered what the officers were asking Vinna, if they even knew what they should be asking her.

Inspector Krenn stopped just beyond Vinna’s office, very near the scene of the crime. Very near the body.

“Captain—“ Inspector Krenn began.

“Odo.”

“Odo, I don’t answer to you. This isn’t your jurisdiction and this isn’t a military matter. What is your interest in this case?” 

“Is it a case?” Odo asked. “Has there been a murder?”

“We believe so,” Krenn said. “The victim was Hadara Mari, the hotel’s coordinator. Did you know her?”

“I did,” Odo replied.

Krenn plucked a small datapad and a stylus from the pocket of his jacket. “How did you know the victim?”

Odo’s gaze fell on Hadara’s broken fingernails, her broken beads. “She was…a friend.”

Krenn’s glance darted down the hall to Kira. “What kind of a friend?”

_ Prophets, this question again? _  “An acquaintance from before the withdrawal. We weren’t close.”

“I see. And your, uh...companion. Did she know your friend?”

“ _ My companion _ is Colonel Kira Nerys,” Odo replied. “And she did know Hadara, but not well. They met just last night. How was she murdered?”

“I can’t discuss that,” Krenn replied. His gaze darted to Kira again. “Where were you between the tenth hour last night and the first hour this morning?”

He was being questioned, Odo realized. As a suspect. Deeming Odo a suspect in Hadara’s murder made Odo’s estimation of Krenn rise a degree, though it was still distressing. It also wasn’t the first time Odo had been accused of murder, so he answered the question honestly.

“I was with Nerys in our room. I went into a regeneration cycle around the eleventh hour and was incapacitated until the cycle completed around six this morning. Neither of us left our room after we checked in.”

“Right, sure,” the inspector said, scribbling notes. “You won’t mind if I confirm that with the hotel’s computer?”

Odo crossed his arms over his chest. “Not at all,” he replied.

Krenn scribbled something else on his pad, taking his time about it and taking cursory glances at Odo as he wrote. Odo recognized the technique; he’d used it himself. Krenn wanted to make Odo wait, make him anxious, make him worry about what was being recorded on that pad. Krenn needn’t have bothered. Odo was anxious, but it had nothing to do with being interrogated by a junior inspector.

Krenn looked up from his pad. “As I said, Odo, you have no authority in this area and if you were Hadara’s friend as you say, you’ll let me get back to my investigation.”

Odo’s gaze moved away from Krenn and rested on Hadara’s body. She was only meters from where he was standing, right there, so close, all Odo had to do was go to her. He turned his attention back to Krenn, weighing what would happen if he did. Krenn misinterpreted Odo’s interest and his dark blue gaze turned accusing.

“We  _ will _ find out what happened to Hadara Mari, I assure you,” Krenn said. “The person who did this—whoever he might work for—will pay for his crime.”

Odo used his own ice-blue glare to convey to Krenn exactly how he felt about Krenn’s implications. Odo felt a petty pleasure when it was Krenn who looked away first.

Odo again looked over Krenn’s shoulder at Hadara, again weighing his options, again calculating the risks. As he watched, as he considered, one clumsy officer stepped on the hem of Hadara’s skirt, danced back, and then stumbled on a wooden bead. The bead skittered across the floor and hit the wall. Odo’s hand clenched into a fist. The idiot! He should be removed from the scene; he was compromising the case! However, the man’s oafishness called Odo’s attention to an odd detail. Hadara’s bright blue silks were oddly spotted on the back, like they’d been sweated through and stained with the salts of her body. Odo’s foot lifted from the floor to move him forward, to a get closer look, but he caught himself before he did something foolish. Something that could get him arrested. Inspector Krenn was right. This wasn’t Odo investigation or his jurisdiction, and he was keeping the inspector from his duties.

“Inspector, when do you plan on making a press release?”

“When I’m ready,” Inspector Krenn replied. He tucked the datapad in his pocket. “I think we’re done here. For now…Hey, Chala! Can you walk Captain Odo here back to the line?”

The same guard who had let Odo past the force field appeared at Odo’s elbow. Her mouth was pinched in a grim line and there was a slight tremor in her hand as it moved over her sidearm. She was afraid of him. Odo didn’t for one second blame her. A humanoid who had struck a force field as many times as Odo had would be unconscious.

Odo smoothed his features into something he hoped looked like calm. He allowed Chala to escort him back to force field. From behind, he heard Krenn’s boots marching in the opposite direction. At the force field line, Odo paused and turned around.

“One more thing, Krenn,” Odo called.

Krenn stopped. His shoulders stiffened before he turned back.

“I have a bit of professional advice, from one investigator to another.”

“Oh? And what is that _ , Captain?” _

“After you let me pass, you might want to activate the opacity feature on the force field generator. The hotel guests have been snapping images of Hadara’s corpse while your officers tromp around the scene of her death with all the finesse of Lurian wildebeests. For the victim’s dignity and for that of your department, it would be best if you blocked out as many prying eyes as possible. I’d hate for her next of kin to find out about her death from the gossip net. Or for your superiors to see your people stepping on the evidence.”

Krenn had the grace to appear embarrassed, but it was quickly hidden. He nodded firmly at Chala and then finished his stormy march down the corridor. Chala dropped the force field, let Odo out, and put it back up. Odo didn’t turn back to check, but disappointed groans and grumbles from the crowd suggested Chala had ended the show.

From the other side of the force field, Kira had kept a level, deadly stare on Krenn during his entire exchange with Odo. Once Odo was safely returned to her, the ire faded from her expression. Her dark gaze turned soft and sympathetic as she looked up at him.

“Well?” she said. “Is it…?”

“Yes,” Odo replied. “Hadara Mari is dead. She may have been murdered.”

Once Odo said it himself out loud, the harshness of the words, the truth of them, the effort of forming such ugly sounds drained the angry energy that had been coursing through his matrix. Its absence left him feeling weak-limbed and weary _. _ He wanted to be liquid, formless, to let himself go and be away from the solid world. He wanted time to wallow in his own fresh grief. Though he regretted he couldn’t investigate Hadara’s death himself, a small part of him spoke up to remind him that for once, it wasn’t his responsibility. For once, he could just walk away and let someone else handle it. This time around, Hadara Mari’s troubles were not his to deal with. The thought was a relief, and Odo despised himself for having it.

“Come on,” Kira said, taking his arm. She steered him away from the force field and back in the direction of the lift. “Let’s get away from this crowd and go back to the room. We can talk things out and decide what we’re going to do about this.”

“Nerys, there’s nothing to talk about. Nothing to decide. Hadara is dead, murdered. The police will take care of her now.”

Kira’s mouth pressed into a thin line and she shook her head ruefully. “I’m sorry, Odo, but this isn’t the time for retreat. You’re going to have to talk this one through. I think this is the perfect time to sit down with your partner and tell her that long, dark story…” 


	4. Chapter 4

 

_ Eight years earlier…. _

“Shapeshifter, I employed you to keep this kind of shameful behavior from occurring on my Promenade. I am most displeased by this display. I want this situation rectified immediately!”

Gul Skrain Dukat pointed an accusatory finger at the Bajoran woman laying at his feet. She was heaped in a half-conscious wilt on the floor of the Promenade. Gul Dukat was surrounded by his usual retinue of guards and advisors and sycophants. Each of them lifted their gazes from the woman on the floor to stare expectantly at Odo. 

Inwardly, Odo cringed at being upbraided so publicly, but he didn’t give Dukat the satisfaction of letting it show. Dukat had employed Odo to investigate criminal matters among the Bajoran population of Terok Nor. He was not employed to clean up vagrant baggage. Dukat had scores of Cardassian security officers for that task. However, the young woman lying on the floor was in a vulnerable state, as was Odo with Dukat calling him out publicly, so this wasn’t the right time to pick an argument.

“I’ll take care of it right away, Prefect,” Odo replied. Using Dukat’s governing title was a deliberate choice on Odo’s part. The sound of it always made the proud peacock preen, and preening usually displaced his anger.

“I am holding you responsible for this outrage, shapeshifter,” Dukat replied. “For your negligence, you will have the embarrassment of seeing to this woman’s care yourself, and you will ensure she is safely returned to where she belongs.  _ You  _ will handle this matter personally, you, and only you…Are my instructions clear, Odo?”

“Yes, Prefect,” Odo replied, careful to sound chastised, although he was more puzzled. What Dukat just said didn’t add up. Why would Gul Dukat care where this anonymous woman ended up after she was removed from his path? Why was he so insistent about Odo taking care of her? There was a hidden motive somewhere in Dukat’s commands, but Odo was too busy trying to save himself from further embarrassment to decipher it.

Odo stared at the floor to appear dejected by Dukat’s rebuke. Dukat and his retinue moved on, skirting the fallen woman as if she were no more than another piece of detritus littering the Promenade. Odo waited a sufficient amount of time for Dukat’s retinue to be out of sight before he lifted his head. As soon as he was sure they had passed, Odo set about following Dukat’s orders.

Throughout this exchange, the woman hadn’t stirred at all. She was still lying face-down and unresponsive on the Promenade floor, a rather sorry sight. Odo did feel pity for her, although he suspected it was her own fault she had ended up in such a position. She had to be intoxicated to have passed out in such a wanton fashion in the middle of a public square.

Odo dropped to one knee next to the woman. He shook her shoulder. “Up,” he commanded. She groaned pitifully but didn’t move. Or maybe she couldn’t move. Odo heaved a sigh. He should call medical for an assist, but people were starting to stare. He would have to move the woman himself if he wanted this situation resolved quickly. What a damned nuisance the Bajorans could be!

Odo carefully rolled the woman onto her back. He planned to pick her up and carry her to security, but he wanted to check for any injuries or vomit first. He’d learned that messy lesson the hard way. This time, though, there wasn’t any mess. In fact, the woman was quite clean. Obviously, she wasn’t a laborer. She certainly wasn't dressed for it. Her dark blue cloak was good-quality wool, custom-made, and her light blue gown was a delicate silky fabric, as were her silver slippers. Her black hair was artfully arranged in curling pile on top of her head, secured with thin silver bands, though the style had been slightly disheveled from her fall. She had moderately expensive jewelry on her ears, her neck, her wrists. Her features were far finer than her clothing. Odo put it all together and realized she must be one of the comfort women, which made her suspected intoxication all the more probable.

Odo carefully slid his arms under the woman’s back and knees. She groaned pitifully as Odo shifted her weight into his arms. He secured his stance and rose, lifting the woman from the floor. The task much easier than he expected and Odo overbalanced, nearly losing his footing. For her height, the woman was surprisingly light. As Odo righted himself, the woman’s neck lolled dangerously over his arm. He shifted her weight so her head rested on his shoulder and started walking toward security.

Dark looks and long stares from the station’s populace were leveled at Odo as he carried the woman across the Promenade. Given the presumptions about him and the insults they regularly threw at him, no doubt the onlookers assumed Odo’s intentions were nefarious. For once, he didn’t blame them. He had to agree he looked rather suspicious absconding from the Promenade with an unconscious woman in his arms. However, negative attention from the general public was a normal occurrence for Odo regardless of what he was about, so he glibly ignored it. What he did was none of anyone’s damned business, anyway.

Odo crossed the Promenade as quickly as he could with his added burden and entered the station’s security office. It was empty. His Cardassian shift partner, Parnok, should have been at the desk this time of day, but he was absent from his post. Consequently, security had been left completely unattended, and it wasn’t the first time Gil Parnok had shirked his duty. It was past time Odo reported Parnok’s absences to Thrax, but at the moment, he found he was actually grateful Parnok was missing. No witnesses meant no questions, and Odo was not in the mood to answer questions.

Odo paused for a moment, standing still in the middle of the security office with his half-conscious  burden, to consider where he should take her. He decided she belonged in a holding cell like any other drunk until she sobered up, but just as Odo moved in the direction of holding, she groaned softly and nestled her forehead closer to Odo’s neck. Odo paused mid-step. Odo felt suddenly loath to take this pitiable young woman to a place as dismal as one of Terok Nor’s jail cells. Being drunk in an of itself was not a crime. However, there was nowhere else in security she could lay down, so Odo continued down the hall to the holding area.

One empty cell was available. Odo walked to the cell’s narrow bench. He set the woman down carefully on it with yet another twinge of regret. The bench was polished metal alloy, an unforgiving and cold surface for a humanoid to rest on, but it was better than a dirty floor. Odo cradled the woman’s head as he eased her onto her back. His hand lingered under her head to keep it off the hard, cold surface of the metal. Her eyes opened briefly, fluttered, and closed again. She was slipping further away. Odo needed to find out what chemical was in her system before she lapsed into a full overdose.

Odo worried about leaving the woman alone in the cell, but there were things he required if he was to help her. He cursed Parnok again for not being where he was supposed to be. He could really use some help at the moment. He carefully eased his hand from under the woman’s head and left the cell to retrieve what equipment he needed.

Odo quickly crossed the security office and went to a storage cabinet for a hand scanner. Then he crossed to other side of the office to the replicator for a hypospray unit and a container of water. When the needed supplies were gathered, Odo hurried back to the holding cell. The woman hadn’t moved at all while he was gone. Odo activated the hand scanner and ran a forensic analysis to diagnose her problem.

The scanner told Odo his assumptions about the woman’s condition were incorrect. All toxicology was negative. What, then, was the issue? Odo switched the hand scanner to medical mode. No infection, no fever, which was good. However, her blood pressure was dangerously low. She was also dehydrated, and her blood gases and glucose levels were abnormal. Odo didn’t know what any of it meant, so he requested a diagnosis from the scanner. It kicked back an answer and Odo cursed himself as a heartless ass. The woman’s problem wasn’t that she had ingested something. Her problem was that she hadn’t.

The woman was suffering from malnutrition. Her body must have shut down while she was on the Promenade. She’d fainted from hunger. That also explained why she had been so light in Odo’s arms. He called to the computer to give him brighter light and looked closer at her features. They were pinched, drawn, the bones of her face angular and sharp. Her collarbone was too pronounced, the symmetrical lines of her ribs were clearly outlined through the gossamer fabric of her gown, and her wrists and ankles were thin and frail-looking. Her skin should be a warm, rich medium brown, but her current state had given it a corpse-gray undertone. The cosmetics carefully painted on her face stood out in garish contrast under the harsh lights of the cell. 

That gaunt grayness of the woman’s face made Odo’s worry deepen. Odo reconsidered asking for a medical assist. Drunks he could deal with, but he’d never treated a sick person before. However, Dukat’s command was for Odo to take care of the woman himself. Why Dukat had instructed him to do so, he didn’t know. What Odo did know was that when Dukat was so specific in his orders, it was best for all concerned his orders were followed exactly.

Odo consulted the hand scanner again and asked it what he should do. The scanner recommended an injection of a concentrated nutrient compound mixed with a gentle stimulant, and then water, to be taken by mouth. Odo synced the scanner’s suggested prescription to the hypospray and loaded it. He injected the woman’s upper arm with the compound. He kneeled next to the bench and waited for the hypospray to work.

The stimulant the computer ordered worked fast— too fast. The woman’s eyes opened wide and she wheezed a shocked gasp as the medication forced her back to consciousness. She tried to sit up, tried to raise her body from the bench, but she was too weak to manage it. Her struggle caused her to panic. Odo pressed his hands on her thin shoulders, encouraging her to stay flat.

“Easy, miss,” Odo said. “You’re safe. You’re in security. You collapsed on the Promenade and I brought you here for treatment. You should feel better soon.”

The woman nodded her understanding. The tension in her slim frame eased. Odo released her, but stayed close. She stared up at him, frowning. Her dark, direct gaze made Odo uncomfortable, but he didn’t flinch from her inspection. He knew what she saw—an alien, an outsider, a freak. Let her look, let her get comfortable with it, he thought. She was going to be stuck in this holding cell with his unfinished face for a while.

Eventually, the woman stopped searching him. Her eyes closed and Odo had a brief moment of panic. Was she passing out again? He looked at her chest. Her breathing was even and steady. She was just resting. 

Odo sat quietly with the woman for a few more minutes and waited for her to gather her strength. Her color was warming, so Odo ran another scan. Her bio-signs were more stable, though still far from optimal.

“Can you sit up now?” Odo asked.

Wordlessly, the woman tried again. She managed to pull her body into a seated position, resting against the cell wall. Odo picked up the container of water he’d brought and offered it to her. 

“Here,” he said. “Drink slowly.”

The woman eyed Odo warily as she took the container. She uncapped the bottle, sniffed the contents, then took a tentative sip. Nothing seemed amiss, so she took a hearty gulp.

“Drink slowly,” Odo reminded her. “What is your name, miss?”

“Hadara Mari,” she rasped.

“And where are you assigned?”

“Habitat ring, level seven, section twenty-three,” she answered. She coughed and gently cleared her throat. “I am the comfort woman of Glin Marcine.”

“And does this Glin Marcine not have replicators? I know your situation is not ideal, but starving yourself is not a viable exit strategy.”

Hadara glared darkly at Odo as she sipped more water. “I do not starve myself,” she said. “I am…My access to the food replicators is metered.”

Odo read between the lines of that diplomatic statement. Glin Marcine was deliberately starving his comfort woman, which was odd. Most comfort women on the station were lured to the job by the promise of better living conditions, including better food. Though the Bajoran population had been enslaved, Cardassian law had strict regulations regarding sex workers, and they still applied. Contract agreements were legally binding on both sides. Technically, the woman could sue for her release if Marcine wasn’t providing for her, but Odo knew doing so would be difficult. Dangerous, even. Enforcing civil law when they were so far from Cardassia Prime was tricky business.

But, as an agent of Cardassian law, Odo did have to ask: “Do you wish to file a complaint?”

“No,” she replied. “No police.”

“It’s too late. I am the police.”

“No, you’re not,” Hadara replied. “Not exactly.”

“So I’m just supposed to return you to your glin to have this happen again?”

“Yes, sir, please, for both our sakes.”

“Explain,” Odo said.

Hadara heaved a sigh and sat up higher on the bench. She held out the water container. “May I have more, please?” she asked.

Odo paused, eyeing her carefully, trying to decide if her request was a ruse. If it was, there was nothing in her expression that gave it away. He took the container from Hadara with a ‘wait here’ and went to the replicator. He recycled the old container, ordered a fresh one, and quickly returned to the cell.

“I’m still waiting for that explanation,” Odo said. He handed Hadara the container.

Hadara opened the second water container and drank deeply. When she was done, she lowered the container and looked at Odo thoughtfully. Now that some of her strength had returned and she looked a little less at death’s door, Odo could see that she was truly beautiful, or would be if she were allowed the means to care for herself. Odo still didn’t understand why Glin Marcine would starve his comfort woman to the point of illness. Illness wasn’t exactly a beauty enhancer.

“It is much to explain,” she said. She wiped a bead of water from her upper lip the pad of her thumb, and Odo couldn’t help but follow her motions. She had a interestingly shaped mouth, not full, but still sensual, with a sweet, wide bow on her top lip. He realized he was staring and turned his gaze. 

He was already caught, though. Hadara raised a brow at him as she said, “I am deciding the best way to explain myself to you.”

“Tell the truth, miss,” Odo said. “That is always the wisest way to present an explanation to a Cardassian security agent.”

Hadara smiled at him, a knowing sort of smile, and it changed her entire face. The amusement in her dark gaze filled Odo with a sudden warmth, even if it was at his expense. 

“You, sir, are no more a Cardassian agent than I am,” Hadara said.

“Oh?” Odo returned. “Are you a sworn agent of the court, then? An appointed investigator of criminal matters on Terok Nor?”

“No, of course not,” she replied. “However, I am a comfort woman, and comfort women hear things from those who keep them.”

“What sorts of things?”

“Things we really shouldn't hear, things that probably shouldn't be said. Lately, though, some of the things I hear include mentions of the Prefect’s shapeshifting investigator. There is much gossip circulating around Terok Nor about him, especially regarding his loyalties and exactly where they lie.”

“We’re not here to discuss rumors,” Odo replied. “We were discussing you. And right now, the discussion is that if you cannot explain yourself as I have asked you to do, I will press charges against you for loitering on the Promenade and disturbing the peace.”

Hadara held up her hand. “Peace, shapeshifter. I only mean to say that we Bajorans on the station know that for the most part, you are on our side.”

This was turning into the kind of talk that could get Odo killed. “Miss, your explanation. Now. Or stay here, in this cell, awaiting charges, and I will call your glin to come bail you out.”

“I had also heard you were irascible,” she said with a small smile. “I see that rumor is true. Very well. I will start at the beginning.

“Six months ago, I was plucked from my home on Bajor to serve on Terok Nor, though I did not know in what a capacity I was to serve until I arrived here. Glin Marcine chose me from among several other women on the transport, took me to his quarters, and told me what my new responsibilities as a comfort woman would be. I told him I was not interested in the position. He said that was up to me and I was free to go, but I had to earn my own passage back to Bajor. Since all Bajorans are now slaves, earning my own passage isn’t possible. I didn’t have much choice but accept Marcine’s offer. It was ore processing, or him.”

“But it is possible to obtain paid labor,” Odo said. “There are other ways, other choices.”

“Yes, but not any good choices for one like me. I am aware of my appearance, sir. I know others covet me because of it—even you stare at me too long—and I know that is exactly why I ended up in this place. There were other girls in my village, but I was chosen. When my father tried to stop the Cardassians from taking me, they threatened to kill my mother and him, so I went. I let them bring me here to save my parents. When Glin Marcine made his offer, I accepted because I came here with the knowledge that under these circumstances, beauty is a curse more than it is a blessing. A beautiful woman alone on Terok Nor with no one to speak for her is in danger. From everyone.”

Odo couldn’t deny the truth of Hadara’s words. He also admired her frankness. She was right; he certainly had noticed her beauty, he had been looking, and she was also right about her fate. Had she refused the glin and attempted to navigate the social structures of the station on her own, their overseers would have forced her into one form of exploitation or another. At best, she might have gotten hired at one of the station’s private businesses, like the Ferengi’s bar, but that would have still left her vulnerable. The Ferengi bar owner wasn’t known to be physically abusive or deliberately cruel, but he was a Ferengi. The customers’ satisfaction always took priority over the dignity and safety of his staff, and getting stuck charming reprobates out of their cash on behalf of a greedy Ferengi was one of the the best-case scenarios on Terok Nor. Far worse options existed for someone like Hadara. The choice the Cardassians had left Hadara by bringing her to Terok Nor was grim—endure the controlling hand of one or the grasping hands of many. When Odo had left the lab, he had faced a similar decision. Odo had chosen the latter, and he still wasn’t sure he’d made the right choice because in the end, the outcome had been the same. Despite his efforts to make an independant life for himself, he’d still ended up under Gul Dukat’s thumb as much as Hadara was under her glin’s.

“You implied I would be in danger from Glin Marcine,” Odo said. “Why?”

“Glin Marcine is a powerful man,” Harada replied. “Or, at least, his family has power. Their reach is wide and their wealth is vast. The only reason Marcine is at this remote an outpost, and only as a glin, is because he is considered a family embarrassment. Glin was the highest position his family could buy him. He isn’t…He’s not a well man. He is often...unstable.”

“In what way?

“Emotionally, mentally, chemically, take your pick. He indulges himself with many vices, so I can never be sure which type of instability will manifest. He is also obsessively consumed with keeping up appearances, much more so than any of the other Cardassian officers. I think he only wanted a comfort woman as part of maintaining those appearances. When the officers have their social gatherings, they bring their comfort women along to show them off, comparing and contrasting, boasting and bluffing about whose woman is better, finer, best mannered, like we’re some species of exotic pet.” She shuddered and gathered her cloak tighter around her. “It is not treatment dignified to any humanoid.”

“So why does he starve you?” Odo asked. “The saying on Cardassia goes, ‘The true worth of a man is measured by the health of his household.’ Starving you to the point of illness seems contrary to keeping up appearances.”

“Marcine says it is because he wishes me to show well in the clothes he buys for me. He doesn't let me eat because he says I’ll get too fat to wear them. He chooses my attire personally, and all of it is expensive. Each tiny detail of my daily wardrobe is his decision— my hairstyle, my lip color, my shoes, even my perfume. He is most particular about my appearance and takes delight in the process of creating it. But the puzzling thing is, other than my surface appearance, he has no physical interest in me at all. In my time with him, he has never attempted to take me. In fact, I have never known him to bed any woman, although he is sure to imply he does so in public.”

“So what do you do for him?” Odo asked.

“I am essentially his social secretary,” Hadara replied. “Glin Marcine is quite the host and he likes the old-fashioned touch of having his invitations personally delivered. I’ve managed to learn enough Cardassian to write them. At night, I mostly serve as a fashionable arm piece at his parties. During the day, I do small errands for him—fetch and carry, shopping, the like.”

“That doesn’t sound so bad,” Odo said.

“It wouldn’t be, except that Glin Marcine is quite particular. Quite exacting. If he perceives any mistake, thinks I have erred in some way, whether it is true or not, there are…consequences.”

Hadara’s arms folded protectively around her middle. Odo’s ire rose. True to form, the damage from Glin Marcine’s consequences was hidden where it wouldn’t be seen by polite company.

Hadara looked up at Odo and forced a smile. “So, sir, you should let me go and forget this incident. My situation is dangerous, but it could be worse. If you attempt to interfere with his household, Glin Marcine would use his influence to make me mysteriously disappear before you could create a resolution, and you would also garner his attention. And you do not want Glin Marcine’s attention.”

“You should let me worry about that,” Odo said.

“A man in your situation must have many worries,” Hadara replied. “Let me not be one of them.”

“Then what can I do to help you, miss?”

“Nothing, sir, except let me go about my business. I was delivering today’s invitations when I fainted.” She opened her cloak and showed Odo an inner pocket stuffed with several envelopes. “Let me finish before Marcine discovers I’ve been gone too long and sends his guards to look for me. That is the best thing you can do to help me.”

Odo paused for a moment, considering. “You’re wrong,” he concluded. “There is one other thing I can do to help you. Wait here.”

Odo left the cell and made another trip to the replicator. He unlocked the food menu and stood before it, contemplating. He didn’t need to eat, so he had no idea what it felt like to starve, but he’d seen enough on Terok Nor to know starvation was a miserable business. He also knew feeding up a starved person was best done gently to avoid gastric distress, but what foods were gentle? He perused the Bajoran section of the replicator menu carefully, looking for the right dish, and then finally, he found it. A bowl of warm cereal should be safe. He hoped it was safe.

Odo ordered the cereal. When it materialized, he took the bowl from the replicator. He returned to Hadara. He held the bowl out to let her see what he’d brought. The way her dark eyes lit confirmed he’d made the right choice. She reached up for the bowl but Odo moved it away before she could take it.

“Wait,” Odo said. “Before I give you this, I want something in return.”

Hadara’s smile fell. “And what is that?”

“A promise,” Odo said.

“What kind of promise?”

“I want your word that you will meet me here in the security office on the mornings Marcine sends you out for your deliveries.”

There was a knowing, a resignation in her response. “And why would you like me to meet you here, sir?”

“So I can override the replicator for you,” Odo replied. “I’m allotted more replicator credits than I will ever need. I will let you use them.”

Hadara's resignation shifted to anger. She glared darkly at Odo. “And in return for such generosity, do you expect something more from me than just a promise? Special favors, maybe? Maybe some time alone with me in one of these little cells?” Her eyes welled with tears and her anger dissolved as quickly as it had come. She covered her eyes and shook her head ruefully. “I'm sorry, I don’t know why I sound so proud. I’m not in any position to be proud. I’ve been so hungry for so long, I think I’d give you  _ whatever  _ you wanted if it meant regular meals.”

Odo rolled his eyes. Humanoids had such one-track minds. Yes, he found Hadara beautiful, but that didn’t necessarily translate to desire in his case. After all, he wasn’t humanoid and wasn’t prone to the same hormonal pitfalls, though perhaps he needed to work on conveying that fact more succinctly. That red-headed troublemaker, Kira Nerys, had thought the same thing, although in her case, it was closer to the truth than Odo wanted to admit. He had been attracted to Kira, but he wouldn’t have called it sexual. He had been… _ drawn _ to Kira in some fundamental way, a singular sort of feeling he’d never experienced with any other humanoid, and even though a year had passed since he first met her, he still hadn’t figured out what exactly that draw-in, fundamental feeling meant. 

In Hadara’s case, however, Odo’s interest was purely sympathetic. Even though he’d tried to forget Kira’s parting words, they still echoed sharply in his mind. At some point, she’d said, Odo would have to take a side in Bajor’s conflict with the Cardassians because he would have no choice but to do so. Her words had opened Odo’s eyes fully to the plight of the Bajoran people and to his own role in their fate, and Odo wished they hadn’t. Only a year on the job, and he’d grown soul-weary of hearing stories like Hadara’s. Terok Nor was a den of misery and repression, and Bajor was worse. Odo wished he could cleanse the entire sector of such injustices, but he was only one being, and a relatively powerless being at that. If there was nothing else he could do to ease the suffering of the Bajoran people, at least he could feed Hadara Mari and keep her from fainting on the Promenade again. He could keep at least one Bajoran citizen out of danger. But all of this was his business, not hers, and he needed a plausible excuse if she was to trust him.

“What I want is information,” Odo said. “You said comfort women hear things. In exchange for the food, I would like to know what it is you hear.”

“That’s all?” Hadara asked.

“That’s all,” Odo replied.

Hadara smiled at him. “Done,” she said.

Hadara held her hands. Odo placed the bowl of warm cereal in them. She brought the bowl close to her face and inhaled the steam that curled up from the bowl. 

“Wonderful,” she said, her expression turning wistful. “So pure! The Cardassians export all of our edible grains off-world now. I haven’t had porridge that didn’t smell of rot since I was a child.”

That couldn’t have been all that long ago, Odo thought. Hadara was above the age of consent, but not by much. Odo expected her to fall on the cereal and devour it. She didn't. Instead, her motions were controlled, elegant, polite, as though she was dining at table and not in a jail cell.

Hadara carefully stirred her cereal to cool it a bit. She dragged the spoon along the edge of the bowl, filling it full, and then slowly brought the spoon to her mouth. 

“Cinnamon and kava,” she said softly, eyes closed. “It’s perfect.”

Watching Hadara take such delight in such a simple meal made Odo wish he could taste it with her. Almost. Like sex, food wasn’t on his priority list, and he was grateful for that fact even if his differences did alienate him. If he was subject to the same physical needs humanoids were, he would have been in the same desperate position as the rest of the Bajorans to fulfil them. Considering the darker side of his own nature, he didn’t want to know what kind of being he would be if he had to live with that kind of desperation.

Hadara continued to eat and Odo quietly waited until she was done. Hadara could only manage half of the contents of the bowl before she was full. Odo took the bowl back from Hadara and escorted her out of the cell. They walked back to the main entrance of security together.  When they arrived, Odo gave her a message of caution before he let her go.

“Miss, I believe this goes without saying, but it is best you do not mention our arrangement to anyone. I can’t feed the whole station, and the whole station would show up here if they knew what I was doing for you.”

“Yes, sir, of course. I’ll be discreet.” She hesitated. “What about the other security agents? If they see me here, won’t they ask questions? Won’t you be reported?”

“As I said before, you should let me worry about that,” Odo replied.

Hadara nodded and looked as if she would say something else, but she changed her mind. She raised the hood of her cloak. “Then I should be going. Thank you for your help, sir. For the food.”

Odo nodded once, saying nothing. Hadara turned away from him and left security. Just as she passed through the main door, Gil Parnok returned from wherever he had been. He paused as Hadara walked by him, grinning lasciviously as he tried to peek under the hood of her cloak. She adeptly turned her face away from Parnok’s notice and hurried down the Promenade.

Parnok gave a long, low whistle at Hadara’s retreating back. He turned around to face Odo, still grinning. “Who was that, shapeshifter? She a friend of yours?”

“Something like that,” Odo replied.

“I sure wish I had a friend like that. Next time, you’ll have to introduce us.”

Odo folded his arms over his chest. “If you’d been minding your post like you’re supposed to be, Parnok, you would have gotten the chance to meet her today. These absences of yours are becoming quite the nasty habit.”

Fear flashed over Parnok’s scaled visage. “You aren’t going to report me, are you?”

Odo didn’t answer. He narrowed his blue gaze, made it sharper, colder. He held Parnok in his frozen glare until Parnok started to squirm.

“Oh, c’mon, Odo,” Parnok said. “I went to Quark’s to put in for the morning vole fights. If I wait until my break, the betting’s already closed. I wasn’t gone that long, was I?”

“Under Cardassian military regulations, you’ve been gone long enough to be tried as a deserter.”

Parnok’s gray face went even grayer. He licked his scaled lips nervously. “Odo, please don’t report me. I swear, this’ll be the last time. I’ll never leave my post again. I’ll do whatever you want, give you whatever you want, just don’t tell Thrax _ , please _ .”

“I won’t report you,” Odo said, “but it’ll cost you.”

Parnok winced. “How much?”

“Oh, don’t worry, Parnok, the price for my silence is well within your means. I don’t want you to cease your gambling habits. I want you to indulge them.”

“What? Why?”

“Never mind why,” Odo said. “All you need to know is how. Each day, at the same time you left today, I want you to leave your post and go to Quark’s for one hour. I’ll cover the desk while you’re gone.”

“So, first you’re pissed that I’m gone, and now you want me to go? Is this some kind of double-cross, shapeshifter?”

Odo walked closer to Parnok. He stopped when they were standing nearly chest-to-chest. “Did you know, Parnok, that desertion from the Cardassian Guard carries a minimum sentence of fifty years in prison? Without parole?”

Parnok held up his hands in a gesture of yielding. “Fine, Odo, fine. I’ll be gone, just like you say. You’ll have this dump all to yourself.”

“Good,” Odo said. He turned away from a distressed, bewildered Parnok and left security to finish his patrol of the Promenade.


	5. Chapter 5

Odo’s plan to clear security to allow him and Hadara the time they needed for their covert arrangement worked perfectly. Odo and Parnok were not the only agents on duty during security’s first shift, but the other agents generally checked in at the office and then went out to make their patrols of the various parts of Terok Nor. Terok Nor was the size of a small city, so the other agents didn’t return to the office unless they needed to process an arrest. Gil Parnok was left behind as a desk agent to take any incoming complaints, and Odo, of course, had the run of the Promenade. Before Dukat appointed Odo, Promenade duty was assigned to Gil Orenk, but Thrax learned quickly that Odo’s eyes were far keener than any humanoid’s and his reaction time much quicker. Thrax had deemed Odo the more qualified agent to monitor the busiest part of Terok Nor. Thrax himself monitored the Promenade for the much busier second shift. So, Odo had his domain to himself just as he knew he would.

Each morning, at the appointed hour and after everyone else was out of the office, Odo would send Gil Parnok to Quark’s, replace him at the desk, and wait. Some days, Odo waited just a few minutes. Others, he waited until Parnok’s hour was almost up, but each day Marcine sent Hadara out, she kept her promise and made her appearance. Glin Marcine’s parties were frequent, so though Hadara couldn’t come every day, she came most of them, and Odo started to count on seeing her most mornings. Odo took no days off himself as he really didn’t need them and he slept in the security office anyway, so Hadara could count on him, too.

As the weeks passed and turned into months, no one caught Odo and Hadara together. Hadara was careful to keep her identity concealed as she walked the Promenade, her head always covered by the same dark blue cloak. She kept her hood up while she was in security in case anyone should wander in, ate her food as she gave Odo what information she had, and then took her leave as soon as her plate was clear. The information Hadara gave Odo was mostly anecdotal and therefore inadmissible in legal proceedings, although listening to her tales of Marcine’s parties did give Odo deeper insight into the characters of some of the station’s ranking officers. This deeper insight did not at all make a favorable impression on Odo. His esteem of the Cardassians managed to drop even lower the more Hadara told him about their closed-door dealings. Listening to Hadara tell her stories, though, and listening to her keen insights and astute observations made Odo’s esteem of her grow higher and higher.

With an entire replicator at Hadara’s disposal, Odo expected her to choose fanciful and exotic dishes, or to at least eat her fill. Odo meant what he said about needing none of the replicator credits the military allotted him and put no restrictions on how much Hadara could replicate. However, Hadara’s choices were always simple, nutritious foods and never in any excess of quantity. Odo once asked her why she didn’t eat more. Her response was that while she very much wanted to, she was afraid if she ate too much, she would gain too much weight, and Marcine would notice.

“And if Marcine notices,” Hadara said, “I won’t be able to come here anymore.”

“Which means no more free meals,” Odo concluded.

“Which means no more secret visits with my new friend,” she corrected.

Odo didn’t reply to that, momentarily stunned. Hadara had said ‘friend.’ Had anyone ever called him a friend before? Odo had been called many things—intruder, monster, freak. Odo was even called nothing at all. Never had anyone directly referred to him as a friend. Doctor Mora had treated Odo respectfully once he learned Odo was sentient, as did the other scientists in the lab, but Odo was more of a coworker than a friend. He was a subject, a patient, a personification of the important scientific discoveries the lab was making at his expense. The scientists all approached him with the same blend of enthusiastic curiosity banked by clinical detachment. No one was ever directly cruel, but they weren’t exactly warm and cuddly, either. Outwardly, Odo would always claim that he left the lab because he wanted his freedom, and that wasn’t untrue, but in his own heart, Odo knew the real reason he left. The truth was Odo left Doctor Mora and the lab because he’d grown tired of being smiled at by people who didn’t love him.

“Odo, have I said something I shouldn’t have?”

Odo looked up at Hadara. “No, why?”

“You looked far away for a moment,” Hadara said. “You looked...sad. Did I say something to upset you?”

Odo righted his expression, putting his practiced scowl back into place. “You should finish your food,” he said, nodding at Hadara’s plate. “Your time is almost up.”

Hadara looked down at the half-finished plate of roasted fowl balanced on her knees. She sighed heavily. “You know what I wish, Odo? I wish that this occupation was over, that the Cardassians were gone, and that I could sit with you at a table full of real Bajoran food and talk with you for as long as we wanted. I wish I could eat and drink and eat some more until I was bursting, then sleep it off, and then wake to do it all again. I wish I could do this every single day, over and over.”

“Sounds like a good way to get fat,” Odo said, then immediately regretted it. He shouldn’t say such things to Hadara. To anyone, really. It wasn’t his business.

Hadara, though, was grinning. “Oh, I would love that,” she said. “I would love to get fat. Can you imagine having that much food? I would love to be pleasantly plump, with full hips, soft arms, a rounded belly, and thick, pillowy thighs. When this occupation is over, that is exactly what I’m going to do. I’m going to eat and eat until I get luxuriously, decadently fat.”

Odo smirked at her. “No, you won’t,” he said.

“Watch me,” Hadara replied, still grinning. She looked down at her plate and her smile faded. “It is my body, and I have spent enough time letting others tell me what to do with it.”

Hadara picked up a piece of meat with her fingers and took a deliberately large bite. Her expression was determined as she chewed. She finished her meal, all of it this time, and walked her plate to the replicator. Odo followed her to override the controls. Hadara put her plate in the replicator, hit a button, and sent the plate away. She turned back to Odo, looked up at him, and then immediately looked away. She seemed to have grown suddenly shy. 

“Odo,” she said, “I’ve been thinking about it, about our friendship. I’ve enjoyed our time together very much. I very much like your company, and you’ve been so kind to me. I-I was wondering if you... Well, if you would like to—“

“Good morning, Odo. Miss. I’m sorry to interrupt, but I need a word with my investigator.”

The words were spoken at Odo’s back. The voice was smooth, pleasant, familiar, but a chill slithered through Odo’s matrix at the sound of it. Hadara felt it, too. She stared over Odo’s shoulder, wide-eyed and stunned to stillness.

For Hadara’s sake, Odo quickly gathered his wits. He turned around. “Good morning, Prefect,” Odo said, careful to match Dukat’s courteous tone. “There is no interruption. The young lady was just leaving.”

Hadara took Odo’s cue. She pulled the hood of her cloak over her brow. She kept her head down and attempted to make a quick and quiet exit through the only path she had, a path that took her between Odo and Dukat. Dukat’s gaze narrowed as she passed and he caught her arm. Odo squeezed his hand into a fist, fighting the urge to knock Dukat’s hand away, to put himself between Dukat and Hadara. Dukat was never violent without provocation, but the definition of what qualified as provocation was entirely Dukat’s.

Still holding firmly to Hadara’s arm, Dukat reached his other hand to the hood of her cloak. He pushed the dark blue fabric back to reveal Hadara's face. She stared past Dukat as he examined her, her chin high and firm, but her breathing hitched in short, rapid pulls. A small smile lifted Dukat's mouth. He ran a gray, finely scaled finger along the edge of Hadara’s hairline, trailing it from the bronze smoothness of her temple to the end of her jawline. She kept her gaze forward, her expression flat, but Odo saw the slightest tremble in her lower lip.

“Lovely,” Dukat said softly. He looked at Odo. “Very lovely.” He let go of Hadara’s arm. “You may go, my dear.”

Hadara didn’t hesitate. She raised her hood and hurried away from Dukat. By the time she got the security doors, she was nearly running. 

Odo felt relief wash through him as he watched Hadara go, but the sensation was short-lived. Dukat also was also watching Hadara leave.

After Hadara was out of sight, Dukat sauntered to the main desk. He took the chair behind it. He waved a magnanimous hand at one of the guest chairs as he invited Odo to have a seat at his own workstation. Odo followed his orders, but kept a wary, ready eye on Dukat as he eased himself down.

Dukat steepled his hands to a point and leaned his chin on the tips of his fingers. “Odo,” he began, “I am here to clear up what I hope turns out to be a simple misunderstanding.”

Odo’s words felt slow and thick as he spoke them. “I’d be happy to help, Prefect, in any way I can.”

“Good, Odo, because in this matter, your full cooperation is expected. You will answers some very troublesome questions I have about recent activities that have appeared on the access code audit report.”

“Code audit?” Odo repeated. “I’m not sure I understand, Prefect.”

“Then I shall explain,” Dukat replied, his tone still smooth, but his expression filled with the smug satisfaction of a predator slowly closing in on its prey. “You see, Odo, Thrax designed for us a program that detects unusual activity involving station access codes. It analyzes code inputs in all areas of operation and pinpoints any usual activity in code usage or frequency. The program also identifies trends over time. Then, it generates an activity report for review, complete with the name of the code’s owner, and that report is delivered to me once per week. The purpose of this program is to identify patterns that may indicate the use of stolen codes.”

“I see,” Odo said. “And what does this have to do with me?”

Dukat’s smile was thin. “Your name appeared on last week’s report, Odo. At the top.”

Odo kept his body language and his voice measured, confident. Innocent. “That is concerning,” Odo said. “Why haven’t I heard of it sooner?”

“Because the only place your codes have been used abnormally is in food replicator activity, not a high-security matter for one of your position. Ordinarily, such activity would be dismissed.”

“Makes sense,” Odo said. “There’s nothing illegal about using the food replicator. Even for someone who doesn’t eat.”

“No, there isn’t,” Dukat said, “nor is there any limit placed on a person’s discretion when using the replicators, unless Thrax’s program decides there is something unusual about the activity. Unless the program deems it is of concern, and last week, and again this morning, Thrax’s program deemed the activity with your codes was of concern. Now, it is my concern.”

Odo was careful to show no concern himself, but he certainly felt it. His anxiety over Dukat’s unexpected visit was giving way to a deep, chilling dread. It wasn’t a coincidence Dukat just happened to show up unannounced while Hadara was in security. Dukat had speculated someone besides the non-eating Odo would be in security using the replicator during this time. After all, he had a report that told him exactly when to look. Odo had blown it, he was caught, and anything Odo said now could be used against Hadara. He had to be sure that whatever blame or punishment Dukat was contemplating was directed at him, not her.

“The lovely young woman from earlier,” Dukat said, changing the subject as if he’d read Odo’s thoughts. “She is the one who fell on the Promenade a few weeks ago, is she not?”

“She is,” Odo replied.

“She appears to be in much better health than the last time I saw her.”

“Yes,” Odo agreed, his voice still controlled, still sitting tall in his chair. He wished Dukat would go in for the kill already and get it over with.

“Were you able to find out who she belongs to?”

“She is the comfort woman of Glin Marcine,” Odo replied.

“Ah," Dukat said, "Glin Marcine."

Dukat said the name as if hearing it for the first time, but Odo knew Dukat knew exactly who Odo had been associating with. Dukat was not a hasty man. He would have done his own research before coming to security to interrogate Odo, and the more Odo thought about it, the more he was sure Dukat had recognized Hadara on the Promenade all those weeks ago. If so, it would explain much, but not all. What was Dukat’s angle? What was he after?

“Galbec Marcine is not one of our more effective officers,” Dukat continued. “He is also rumored to have some unsavory personal habits, the types of habits that are illegal for a member of the Cardassian military. Habits that even rumors of could destroy a man’s career. But, he is also well connected. His family is very influential on our home world, even more so than my family.”

“Imagine that,” Odo said.

“Yes, imagine, Odo, a rather talentless young man with more wealth and power than he has the wits to wield and no military experience whatsoever suddenly a member of this station’s higher ranks. Imagine how his appointment has provoked me, how I have had to tread very carefully around him and his mistakes. How I have had to watch my back at every turn to be sure there wasn’t a hired knife stuck in it. Anyone crossing Glin Marcine and his powerful family must be very cautious. Wouldn’t you agree, Odo?”

“I imagine I’d better,” Odo replied.

That made Dukat smile. Odo wasn’t sure it was an improvement. “I like you, Odo, I really do. You don’t waste words. Even to me, you say what you think, and that is precisely why I employed you. You are, unlike most in this place, unencumbered by pretense. It gives you an air of fearlessness, an air you would do well to cultivate in your line of work.” He sighed heavily and his mirth faded. “As you said, Odo, you haven’t done anything illegal by redeeming your own replicator credits, and truthfully, it is I who put you in this position. I told you to care for the woman personally, and you have done so. I cannot tell you what to do with your own credits, but I can advise you to be careful how you gift them. Things on Terok Nor are tense of late. Rebel activity on Bajor has increased and containing it has been most vexing to me. We also have some high-level visitors who will arrive on Terok Nor tomorrow. The last thing I need right now is a family feud over a few replicator credits and a comfort woman. I do advise you, Odo, to reconsider your—spending habits, shall we say? If you are discovered, I can do little to protect you.”

Odo caught the innuendo. Even Dukat thought his interest in Hadara was sexual. Odo wasn’t about to correct him. He was too relieved that all Dukat wanted was to lay down some friendly advice, and it was good advice, even if Odo wasn’t going to take it. Dukat wasn’t wrong in saying that crossing Marcine was a bad idea. Odo had done his research on the first day he met Hadara, or as much as he could do in circumspect. Everything he’d discovered about Marcine aligned with what Dukat just told him, as did the things Hadara had told him. Dukat also wasn’t wrong when he said Odo was fearless, at least not when it came to protecting his interests, and Hadara was now part of those interests.

“I will take your concerns under advisement, Prefect,” Odo said.

“No, Odo, you won’t. I can already tell you won’t. And for a woman like that, I can understand why you’d be willing to take such risks. Just don’t say you weren’t warned.”

Odo bowed his head in acknowledgment. Dukat rose from his seat. “Good day, Odo.”

Odo rose as well. “Good day, Prefect.”

Dukat left security, Gil Parnok returned shortly after, and Odo went on with his day. As Odo patrolled the Promenade, he turned over his conversation with Dukat again and again, trying to gage Dukat’s true intent. Dukat’s interest in Odo’s affairs had nothing to do with code audits. It had to do with Cardassian politics, with Marcine and his family, but Odo wasn’t sure why he was pulled into it. He was on patrol the day Hadara collapsed, so by default, he had been placed in charge of her situation, but all things considered, Odo now believed Dukat had seen an opportunity in Hadara’s misfortune and Odo’s presence and had taken quick advantage of it. It would certainly be in character for him to do so. But what advantage was there in involving Odo in what seemed to be a private vendetta with Marcine? Odo was unconnected, without power or influence, and therefore, was not much of an ally against a trust fund tyrant.

No matter how much he thought things over, Odo could deduce no solid answers for any of his questions. He couldn’t be sure of anything when it came to Dukat and his twisted intrigues. In fact, the only thing Odo could conclude with any certainty was that despite his closing statements, none of Dukat’s visit had to do with anything to do with actual concern for Odo’s welfare.

No matter what or who Dukat was after, it was Hadara’s welfare that was Odo’s main concern in all of this, and that concern deepened quickly. The morning after Dukat’s visit, Odo waited for Hadara as usual, but she never showed. She’d sent no word, either. Odo naturally grew suspicious of Dukat. Had he said something to Marcine? To Hadara? Odo recalled Dukat’s scaly finger sliding down Hadara’s soft, bronze cheek, recalled Dukat’s avaricious gaze as he admired her. Had Dukat taken Hadara for himself? It wouldn’t be the first time Dukat took something that didn’t belong to him, though he’d said he had no wish to cross Marcine, so Odo dismissed the idea. Dukat was a despot, a usurper, but he wasn’t a fool. Hadara must have had some reason she couldn’t come. As the day came to a close, Odo did his best to convince himself her absence was probably nothing to worry about.

Another day came and went, and Hadara still did not appear. Something had happened to her, Odo was sure of it, he felt it in every cell he had, but how did he find out what? He couldn’t just show up at Marcine’s quarters to ask. That would spell real disaster for Hadara. He couldn’t make any discreet inquiries, either, as he’d never bothered to find out about Hadara’s other contacts, her other friends, if she had any. Certainly, she’d made some kind of alliance with someone other than him, but Odo couldn’t recall her mentioning any names more often than others. If Odo was the friend Hadara had named him, and if he’d been doing his job as a security agent, he would’ve asked these questions of her when he had the chance instead of hiding silently behind his own miserable façade.

A third day passed without Hadara. By the end of it, Odo was desperate enough to consider enlisting Thrax’s help in devising a plan to get into Marcine’s quarters. He needed another strategic mind to trade ideas with, but should he involve Thrax in his business, Odo would likely find himself to be the one in trouble for befriending Hadara in the first place, and then who would help her? He could always use his shapeshifting abilities to sneak inside Marcine’s quarters, but how would that help Hadara once he did? How would Odo get her past Marcine’s guards? Where would he take her? Odo didn’t have quarters of his own, so he had nowhere safe to hide her. There were so many uncertainties, so many variables, and all of them led to Hadara getting hurt or worse.

Odo urged himself to stay calm. A solution would present itself, he just had to keep thinking. He did so throughout the day, scheming and plotting right to the end of it, until he was huddled in his closet and fighting to hold his humanoid form as nature forced him to regenerate and forced him to stop.

During the early morning hours of the fourth day, Odo was still puddled in his bucket, still scheming and fretting and plotting as his regeneration cycle completed. A soft knock on his closet door and a hail from Gil Parnok got him up. It was far too early for Parnok’s daily trip to Quark’s. Now what? Odo quickly poured himself out of his bucket, took humanoid form, and opened the door.

“Odo,” Parnok said, “you need to get out here.”

Odo immediately followed a grim-faced Parnok to the main door of security. The Promenade was dark and empty, still powered down in night mode. Odo saw nothing unusual. Parnok pointed at the floor to the right of the door. Huddled against the wall and hidden in the shadows was a humanoid figure covered by a dark blue cloak.

“Hadara? Are you all right?"

She didn't answer, didn’t move. Odo bent down and pushed the hood of Hadara’s cloak off her face. He recoiled; he couldn’t help it. Both of Hadara's eyes were swelled shut, her cheekbone knotted and bruised, her lower lip split open and oozing blood. One earring was missing and dried blood was smeared across her cheek.

“Parnok, get a doctor.”

“No,” Hadara said. Her speech slurred around her damaged mouth. “No doctors. You, Odo, please.”

“Hadara, you’re badly injured. I need to call medical.”

“No!” she cried, tears leaking from the swollen slits of her eyes. She clutched the sleeve of Odo’s uniform. “Please, Odo, no!”

“We need to settle this somewhere else,” Parnok said tightly.

Parnok was right. It was a miracle no one had spotted Hadara before them, and if they stayed on the Promenade, they would only draw attention. They needed to move.

Odo slid his arms under Hadara’s body. She mewled with pain as he lifted her. Odo kept his steps as measured as possible as he carried her into the security office. Parnok went for the med kit. Where to take Hadara, though? There were no empty cells and they were an hour away from shift change. She couldn’t be in the main part of security when the other agents arrived; there’d be too many questions. Odo took Hadara to the only place he could think of where he could safely hide her—his closet.

Odo moved to his closet and called for the computer to open the door. The overhead light came on as Odo crossed the threshold. He walked the short distance to the back of the closet and gently sent Hadara down on a work table built against the back wall. Parnok came in behind Odo, handed him the med kit, and went back to the door to keep watch.

Odo took the scanner out of the med kit and immediately began checking Hadara’s injuries. Hadara had a concussion. Her left cheekbone was fractured. Her chest and abdomen had several contusions, fresh bruises layered over older ones. One rib was cracked, two fingers on her left hand were broken, and her left shoulder and wrist were sprained.

Odo gritted his teeth against a surge of anger—who could do this to someone?—and kept scanning. He noticed a ring of finger-shaped bruises around Hadara’s throat. The clasp of her cloak was pressing on them, so Odo loosened the clasp and pushed the cloak aside. The bodice of her gown was in shreds. Odo quickly covered her again with a fold of her cloak and turned his gaze, looked farther down. A long, reddish-brown line of blood marred the fine cream skirts of her gown. It ran from her thighs and down, the gown stuck to her legs in tacky patches where the blood had started to dry. He followed the blood trail to her feet. One shoe was missing, the other stained with blood, but again it was partially dry. Odo covered his eyes for a moment, reeling with the awful truth the evidence was telling him, of what had been done to her. How long had she sat outside, alone in the dark, in this kind of pain, waiting for him to find her?

Odo dropped his hand and gathered his wits. He had no time for emotion. He ran a scan over Hadara’s pelvis to determine the nature of her injuries, sure of what he would find, but still, his horror deepened. What kind of monster could hurt someone so badly?

“Hadara,” Odo said, “you need a surgeon, a doctor, I-I can’t heal this, I—”

She gripped his wrist. Her touch was ice cold. “No, Odo, he’ll find me. Please, just you.”

Odo took a shuddering breath. “Hadara,” he said, “please tell me I can send the other agents to Marcine’s quarters. That I can do something about this.”

“No, Odo, not Marcine,” she said, shaking her head. The motion made her wince and her tears started again. “When he lost, when he made me, he said he’d kill my parents if I complained. Please, I need just you.” She bunched the black front of his uniform tunic in her fist. “Odo, don’t let him hurt my parents!”

“All right, Hadara, all right,” he said, gently prying her fingers from his tunic. “We’ll do it your way.”

For now, Odo thought, as Hadara relaxed. At some point, he’d convince her to go to medical. Then, he’d come clean with Thrax, tell him about Hadara, and see what they could do about Marcine. Confessing to Thrax was the lesser of all evils at this point as Thrax’s priority was law and order first, everything else second. Odo would end up in a holding cell for helping Hadara, but so might Marcine. As a Bajoran, Hadara had no rights, no way to press criminal charges herself, but Odo knew with Thrax’s support, he could find a legal loophole of some kind and trap Marcine inside it.

Odo had almost forgotten about Parnok. He’d been listening to their entire exchange, waiting anxiously at the closet door. He spat a curse. “That bastard,” he said. “What do you need me to do, Odo?”

“Just stay on the door. Shut us in here if anyone comes.”

Parnok resumed his sentry post outside the door. Odo got back to the immediate task at hand and set about treating Hadara. With nothing but an emergency medkit, his treatment options were limited, but he did the best he could. The bruises on Hadara’s face and neck were treated, as were her swollen eyes, the cut on her lip, the concussion. He cleaned the blood from her face, her feet. The emergency regenerator in the med kit wasn’t powerful enough to mend bones so Odo couldn’t do anything for the broken fingers, the cheekbone, or the ribs. He steeled himself against another surge of anger as he found and healed two bite marks on her left breast. There was nothing he could do for the internal lacerations and bruising. That kind of damage needed a surgeon’s skill, although according to the hand scanner, none of the damage was life-threatening.

Hadara was patient and still as Odo worked, as quiet as she could be. Healing was not an entirely painless process, even in the twenty-fourth century. Odo couldn’t administer anything for her pain better than a standard analgesic but he gave her the maximum dose. Odo worked diligently but quickly to fix what damage he could and simultaneously collected as much forensic evidence as the scanner could find. He lifted prints, scale and skin samples, clothing fibers. He’d logged the bite patterns in the scanner before he healed them. He also logged the DNA pattern from the evidence Hadara’s attacker left inside her body.

Suddenly, Odo and Hadara were plunged into darkness. The closet door had shut. Hadara whimpered. The muffled voice of Parnok bled through the door.

_ “Morning, Ratha. You look like shit warmed over. Rough night?” _

Their hour was up. The security agents coming off third shift were arriving to check out for the day. First shift would follow shortly to check in. Odo adjusted his vision so he could see in the dark. Hadara flinched as he leaned close to her ear.

“Stay quiet,” he whispered, his words barely above a breath. “Not a sound.”

Hadara’s eyes were wide and round, glittering like obsidian in Odo’s night vision. They darted side to side, blindly searching the dark for something to land on. Odo gingerly took her good hand. Hadara clasped Odo's hand tightly, gratefully, and closed her eyes.

Waiting for security to change shifts was an agony. Odo knew the process usually took no more than half an hour. Trapped with Hadara in the closet with the voices of his fellow security agents bleeding through the closed door made every second feel like an eon. Every rough laugh, every loud word made Hadara’s hand twitch in his. Each time, Odo squeezed back, brushed his thumb soothing across her wrist, providing as much reassurance as he could, though he didn’t have any for himself. He reminded himself over and over that no one would open the door, they never opened it, not anymore. His closet had once been the main storage space in security, but since Odo’s appointment, there was an unspoken agreement the space belonged exclusively to Odo. Odo had to hope that agreement held because if they were caught, he would have a terrible time explaining why he had hidden a badly beaten Bajoran woman in a storage closet. Outsider that he was, he was sure no one would believe any explanation he could present, even if it was the truth.

Finally, eventually, security grew quiet. Parnok opened the door. “We’re clear,” he said.

Bright light blinded Odo. He adjusted his vision. He checked on Hadara. Her eyes were still closed and she was breathing deeply. Had she passed out or was she just sleeping?

“We have to get her out of here,” Odo said as he eased his hand from hers. “Get her somewhere better than this, somewhere safe.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” Parnok said. “But where?”

Odo looked sharply at Parnok. It finally caught up with him that he’d unwittingly dragged another party into his problems. And said party didn’t seem to mind.

“Why are you helping me, Parnok? I recently blackmailed you.”    

Parnok looked down at Hadara’s sleeping form. His expression shifted to one of tenderness. He reached to a high shelf and took down an emergency blanket. “It’s not so much you, Odo,” Parnok said as he covered Hadara with the blanket. “It’s her. I have a sister back on Cardassia about her age. I know this woman’s Bajoran, but when I look at her, all I can think about is my sister.” He sighed heavily and turned back to Odo. “I haven’t seen my little sister for five years. I was conscripted into service as repayment for gambling debts my father racked up. He was too old to enlist himself, so I went in his place to keep him out of prison, and I haven’t been allowed home since. I never asked for any of this, Odo, I never asked to be sent so far from my home and my family, and I have resented every day of my absence, I have hated every assignment, but I hate Terok Nor most of all. What we do here, what Dukat allows…It’s not right. It’s not Cardassian. Most days, I actually hope the rebels on Bajor hand us our asses and send us packing. We have it coming.” 

No one in the universe could’ve been more shocked than Odo. He looked at Parnok in an entirely new light. He looked at Cardassians in an entirely new light. 

Parnok stepped out of the closet. Odo followed. Parnok closed the door. “Ratha told me he ran into Marcine’s guards on level seven,” Parnok said. “They’re looking for her, Odo. She’s right about taking her to medical. If we take her there, they’ll call Marcine, and he’ll just drag her back to his quarters. She can’t stay here, either. Eventually, Marcine has to cover his ass and file a report about his missing woman. Then, irony of ironies, security will be asked to track her down. The only safe place for your friend is far away from here.”

Odo agreed with Parnok. At this point, the only way to secure Hadara’s safety was to get her off Terok Nor and back to Bajor. But who would know the fastest way to smuggle someone off the station?

“Quark!” Odo said. 

Parnok picked up on Odo’s line of thought. “Quark,” he agreed. “I think, though, you’d better be the one to go see him. I’ve got no pull on this station, and you don’t either, but you’re much better at pretending you do. Convincing Quark to do a dangerous favor for a security agent is going to take some pretending.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” Odo said. “I’ll get what I want out of that little toad.” His gaze flickered to the closet door and then back to Parnok. “You’ll watch over Hadara while I’m gone? Make sure she’s not found?”

“Of course,” Parnok said. He turned awat from Odo, walked over to the main desk, sat down in the chair behind it. He spread his hands wide over the desk. “See, Odo? Just me here, all alone, spending another day at the office minding my post.”

“Glad to see you’ve mended your ways,” Odo said. “I’ll return as soon as I can.”


	6. Chapter 6

 

Quark's Bar, Grill, Gaming House and Holosuite Arcade was located in the central part of the Promenade. Odo found Quark’s Bar to be a gaudy, noisome place and he avoided it as much as possible, but the station’s populace didn’t seem to feel the same way. Quark’s was quite popular with the locals, but then again, it’s wasn't as if the locals had many other choices. Quark had followed one of the most hallowed of the Rules of Acquisition when he chose Terok Nor as the place to start a business: “Location, location, location.” Quark’s Bar, seedy dive that it was, did comparatively well as it was the only place of its kind in or around the Bajoran system. How an unremarkable and unconnected Ferengi like Quark had bribed Dukat into providing him such prime real estate, Odo didn’t know, but whatever it was, the price had been worth it. 

In addition to the profits Quark made from the bar, Quark made a healthy side income by dealing with the Bajorans in black market goods. The fact that Quark profited by exploiting the basic needs of a suffering population made Odo dislike Quark on a fundamental level. Since Odo’s assignment to the Promenade, Odo had made extra effort to keep a close watch on Quark and his doings in the hope that at some point, the little slimewad would slip up somewhere and Odo could nail him for it. It was a dark irony that Odo was now counting on Quark’s double dealing to help Hadara.

As Odo made the short dash across the Promenade to Quark’s, he scanned the area to see if anyone was watching. The Promenade was still empty. It was still too early for most of the businesses to be open, except the bar. Part of Quark’s deal with Dukat was that the bar never be closed. Even at this early hour, Odo knew Quark would already be in as Quark took very little sleep. Odo had no love whatsoever for Quark, but he had to admire the man’s work ethic.

Odo reached the entrance to Quark’s and crossed the threshold. As expected, Quark was behind the bar. Quark had a stylus tucked behind one massive bat-like ear and was reading a datapad. A calculator sat next to the pad and Quark’s eyes darted between the two as he presumably tallied his books.

Before Odo approached Quark, Odo looked around the rest of the bar, again checking to see who might be watching. One dabo girl was in attendance—M’Pella, no worries there. One Feregni waiter was on duty. He sagged against a wall, his eyes red-rimmed and dropping and his tray hanging loosely from his hand. He looked so tired, Odo wondered how the poor man was even upright. As far as patrons went, there was only one. He was an Earth man, an unusual sight this far from Federation territory, but not unheard of. The Earth man had passed out with his shaggy head resting forehead-first on the bar top. His grip was still wrapped around the handle of a metal tankard and he was snoring loudly. Odo was surprised to see such a sorry sight sitting at the bar, and no more than a meter from the barkeep’s elbow. Quark normally ejected anyone that far gone from the premises.

Speaking of Quark, Odo needed to get on with it. He slid up to the bar and stopped to stand right in front of Quark. Quark didn’t look up from his datapad, although Odo knew Quark knew he was there. Quark muttered to himself as he punched some figures into the calculator and ignored Odo for a few more deliberately weighted seconds.

"Shapeshifter,” Quark said, still not looking up. His fanged mouth twisted with distaste. “What do you want?”

“I need a word, Quark.”

“So have it and get out. I’m busy.”

Odo looked pointedly at the man passed out on the bar. “A  _ private _ word,” Odo said.

“Oh, don’t worry about him.” Quark waved dismissively at the passed-out Earth man. “He can’t hear a thing. Probably won’t for another hour or two.”

Odo looked over the Earth man again. He was unkempt, grizzled, sloppily dressed, and had spent the night at a bar. If Odo had a sense of smell, he was sure it would’ve been offended. Nothing about the man said trustworthy.

“This is business, Quark.  _ My _ business. I don’t need my business spread all over the station.”

Quark finally looked up from his work. “Shapeshifter, I’m a busy man. Like I said before, out with it or get out. Those are your choices. And for a no-rank, no-fun, non-paying customer like yourself, they’re rather generous ones.”

“Fine!” Odo spat. Under other circumstances, he'd make Quark pay for his insults, never mind the deal or his rank, but this wasn’t about him. This was about Hadara.

“I have a friend that needs to get off the station and to the planet, immediately and without questions. Rumor is, you’re the man to see.”

“You shouldn’t listen to rumors, shapeshifter. They’re dangerous.”

“Indeed,” Odo returned. “But sometimes one has to take risks.”

“You don’t take risks, Odo.”

“Normally, no, not unless there’s a need. Today, I have a need.”

“Do you, now?” One side of Quark's mouth lifted in a snaggle-toothed grin. His gaze turned speculative. “Theoretically speaking, risks can be pricey.”

“How pricey?”

“More than you can afford.”

“Try me,” Odo said.

Quark looked up at the ceiling, tapping his chin. “For argument’s sake,” he said, “and only since we’re speaking in theoretical terms, if I were able to smuggle someone off the station—and mind you, I’m not admitting to a Cardassian security agent that I can—my risk would be worth, oh…about…three thousand slips of gold-pressed latinum.”

Odo had less than half that sum. “What about in trade?” Odo asked. “A favor?”

"Nah,” Quark replied. “I’ve got enough people on this station who owe me a favor. I’d rather have cash."

“How many of those people are agents of the Cardassian security force?”

Quark paused, giving Odo another assessing look. He rubbed the lobe of his left ear as he pondered. 

“You know, shapeshifter, now that I think about it, there is something I need. A favor I’d be willing to trade for.”

“Oh?” Odo replied. He crossed his arms over his chest. “What is that?”     

“Well, you see, I do have a bit of a problem. A buddy of mine used to come here a lot—sit, drink, talk. Boy, can he talk. He also drinks like a fish. My friend, he’s a trader, so he gets around. Used to come to my bar to share stories about his trips, see some friends, maybe sell a thing or two. Nothing serious, mind you, just some of the trinkets he finds on his travels. Lately, though, he hasn’t been coming around so much. I haven’t seen him in weeks and I’m heartbroken about it. I really miss the guy. He’s my best bar tab.”

“And why,” Odo asked, “has your friend stopped frequenting your bar?”

“You, shapeshifter,” Quark replied. “Since you took over patrol of the Promenade, my friend hasn’t been anywhere near Terok Nor. He’s heard rumors about how tight your watch is, how often you conduct bag searches. He’s worried you’ll confiscate his souvenirs and give them to your Cardassian friends.”

“I see,” Odo replied. “And if I said that your friend had nothing to worry about from me, would that ease his mind and bring him back to the station?”

“It would,” Quark replied. “It would also be sufficient incentive for me to consider taking that risk we discussed. Theoretically.”

“Who is this friend?” Odo asked.

"Not yet, shapeshifter. You tell me about your friend first.”

“She’s _my_ _friend,_ Quark. That’s all you need to know about her.”

Quark rubbed his right lobe this time. “Just how special of a friend is she, shapeshifter?”

“Very,” Odo replied. He leaned over the bar, looming towards Quark. “And if—theoretically—I struck a bargain with you to get her off the station and you double-crossed me or caused her any harm, I would take it  _ very _ personally.”

Odo glared at Quark across the bar top. Quark returned Odo’s stare with one of mild amusement. Quark didn’t get it. He wasn’t taking Odo seriously. Odo would have to change that. 

Still holding Quark’s gaze, Odo snatched Quark’s datapad from the bar top. He held it up for Quark to see. He crumpled it with one hand, crushing the electronic device as easily as a humanoid crushing a piece of paper. He dropped the remains on the bar top and they landed with a dull clunk. 

Quark rolled his eyes. “You didn’t have to do that, Odo, not for a theory.”

“I just want to be clear, Quark, that failure is not part of our working thesis.”

“What kind of business would I be running if it were?”

“So, in theory, do we have a deal? Your trader friend goes about his business with no interference from me, and my friend gets transport off Terok Nor?”

“For my hypothetical assistance in arranging the deal, yes. But the price of transport isn’t included.”

Odo snarled at Quark. He lunged across the bar. He grabbed the lapels of Quark’s jacket, lifted him off his feet, and pulled him across the bar top.

“You are wasting my time, Quark! What do you mean ‘extra’?”

“Hey! Lay off, shapeshifter! I’m a middle man, not a pilot. The additional fee is for the transport captain and for making sure your friend gets to where she needs to go once she’s on the ground. I’m not the only businessman in this sector.”

Odo released Quark, his anger quickly dissolving. Quark brought up a good point. Odo hadn’t thought about where Hadara would end up once she was on Bajor or what she would need. He hadn’t even asked her where she wanted to go. Parts of Bajor were currently more far more dangerous than Terok Nor. Incidences of infighting, terrorism, and extreme violence had been reported planet-wide.

“Where does the ship land?” Odo asked.

“Dahkur City,” Quark replied. “From there, your friend has options. For a price.”

Naturally. Odo considered what latinum he had in his accounts. Hadara could have it all; he didn’t need it. But would it be enough for both the fare to Bajor and to see her through whatever she would encounter on the planet?  

“I see you’re worried, shapeshifter,” Quark said. “Don’t be. In theory, I’ve done this before. Though if you tell me a little more about this friend, I might know how to help her better.”

Quark was right again. Hadara still needed medical help or she would be sick and defenseless when she landed on the planet. Quark might know how to help her with that, too, if Odo explained himself. Prophets, cutting shady deals was complicated.

Reluctantly, Odo filled Quark in. He told him Hadara was a comfort woman, that she’d been attacked, and that she was in danger from her attacker. Odo deliberately left out who Hadara worked for, afraid if he mentioned Marcine’s name, it would intimidate the Ferengi as much it as did everyone else. Odo also told Quark about Hadara’s need for medical treatment. Odo omitted the darker details to protect Hadara’s privacy, but Quark could fill in those blanks in himself. Quark’s smirk slid into a frown as he listened. He asked Odo how much latinum he had. Odo told him. Quark said it was enough to get Hadara to Dahkur, but not enough for anything else. He asked Odo if Hadara had anything she could bargain with, any possessions. Odo replied that except for the clothes on her back, Hadara had nothing.

“Give me second to think, shapeshifter,” Quark said. “Your friend’s in trouble, no doubt, but we'll find a way to make a deal.”

Odo grudgingly gave Quark a moment to collect his thoughts. He was running out of time. The Promenade would be awake soon and once it was, his chances for sneaking Hadara out of security quietly would be non-existent. Odo kept his arms crossed over his chest and did his best to be patient as Quark worked. Quark was punching things into his calculator again, tapping the keypad and muttering to himself. When he was finished, he held up the calculator for Odo to see.

“In theory, this is the minimum your friend needs to do this right, with the right people, and if we’re going to make this happen today, she needs it within the hour.”

Odo looked at the sum on Quark’s calculator. Too much. How could he raise that much in an hour?

_ The clothes on her back… _

Hadara’s expensive designer dress was destroyed, but she had been missing only one earring, not two, and she still had the matching bracelet on her wrist. She also had the wool cloak. Unreplicated fabrics were valuable on the black market. Odo made his suggestions to Quark.

“I’d have to see the bracelet to determine its value, but the cloak should at least buy her passage to Dahkur,” Quark replied.

“It’ll have to do,” Odo said. “So, bartender, in theory, do we have a deal?”

“With me, hypothetically, yes,” Quark replied. He turned to the sleeping Earth man. “Hey Stump, you in?”

The Earth man lifted his shaggy head off the bar. He yawned and rubbed his eyes. He blinked blearily at Odo.

“Tell me about the bracelet,” Stump said, scratching his grizzled cheek.

“Polished, opaque red stones set in latinum plate,” Odo replied. “The stones go all the way around the band and are about the size of a Bajoran penny. If I’m not mistaken, they’re Betazoid blood rubies.”

Stump paused for a moment, considering. Quark refilled Stump’s tankard as he pondered. Stump picked up the tankard and took a long drink. He set it down and wiped a scrim of foam off his mouth with the heel of his hand. He met eyes with Odo again, and his gaze was sharp and clear.

“My wife’s favorite color is red,” Stump said. “I’ll take it.” He slid his bulk off the bar stool and stretched. “Give your latinum to the girl to spend on the planet and tell her to keep her cloak. It’s winter in Dahkur.” To Quark, he said, “I’m out in an hour and ten. Make sure she’s on time. I won’t wait.”

Quark nodded his acknowledgement. Stump picked up his tankard and walked away from the bar. Odo and Quark watched him go out the door, tankard still in hand. Open container on the Promenade, Odo thought. There was yet another law he was ignoring.

Odo turned back to Quark. “And what about her medical treatment? I can’t put her on a ship until that’s addressed.”

“Already covered,” Quark said. “M’Pella!” he called across the bar.

The tall, statuesque, scantily clad dabo girl slinked her way to Quark. He leaned over the bar and whispered in her ear. When he was finished, she nodded once, firmly, and took a place at Odo’s side.

“M’Pella will go with you,” Quark said. “Replicate a new dress and cloak for your friend, give them to M’Pella, and M’Pella will take your friend to the dabo girls’ quarters. She can wait there until the ship is ready. M’Pella will walk her to the airlock.”

“And how does that help her injuries?” Odo asked.

“My girls have had worse employers than me, Odo,” Quark said. “Far worse. The girls will know how to help your friend.”

M’Pella squeezed Odo’s shoulder. Odo looked up at her. The smile she showed him was knowing, reassuring. It made Odo feel a little better about trusting Hadara to strangers, but not by much. Then again, it’s not like he had a choice.

“All right, Quark. We have a deal.”

“Excellent,” Quark said. “I’ll tally your bill.”

Quark cast an admonishing look at Odo as he picked up the broken pad from the bar top and discarded it. He took a new pad from under the counter. He made a few rapid taps on the screen and then held it out to Odo.

“Your thumb scan, shapeshifter, to transfer your latinum. M’Pella will provide your friend with hard cash in exchange. I took the liberty of including the house transfer fee and a fifty-strip gratuity for M’Pella.”

If M’Pella could manage everything Quark said she could, fifty strips was a bargain. Odo made a cursory review of the tab. Quark had itemized the purpose of the funds transfer from Odo’s account as ‘Escort services, M’Pella.’ Odo balked over the implications of that line item should anyone actually ask him about it, but not for long. He pressed his thumb on the pad to complete the transfer. The deal was done.

Odo looked up at Quark, about to thank him, but then he remembered the favor Quark wanted for this deal. Prophets knew who this barfly trader was or what Odo had agreed to allow to be smuggled onto the station. He’d deal with that problem later.

“Let’s go,” Odo said to M’Pella.

“It was a pleasure doing theoretical business with you, shapeshifter,” Quark said. “Almost.”

M’Pella and Odo exited Quark’s bar and headed toward security. M’Pella smiled warmly and slipped her arm through Odo’s. It threw Odo off—he wasn’t used to being touched—and he almost shrugged her off, but he remembered that line item on Quark’s invoice. It was part of their cover, of course. Odo tolerated M’Pella’s light hold and walked with her at a brisk pace, hurrying across the Promenade, doing his best not look like he was in a hurry. The Promenade was still mostly empty, but a few of the shopfronts were lit. The Promenade would be awake soon. They didn’t have much time to move Hadara.

In security, Odo found Parnok still at the desk. Parnok cast a dubious look at M’Pella but didn’t say anything. Odo spared a brief nod of assurance for Parnok. He guided M’Pella to the replicator and unlocked the interface.

“M’Pella,” Odo said. “Some help? She’ll need shoes, too.”

“How tall is she?”

“Close to my height, just a few centimeters shorter.”

M’Pella pushed Odo aside to browse the clothing menus. Odo left her to figure it out and went to Hadara.

Odo opened the closet door and peered inside. Hadara was still asleep. After what she’d been through, she needed sleep, she needed hours of it, maybe days, but she wasn’t going to get it. Odo had to wake her.

Odo walked to Hadara’s side. He gently shook her shoulder. “Hadara, wake up.”

Hadara’s eyes opened and she screamed. She sat up and began blindly flailing at Odo, hitting his chest and trying to shove him away. Odo caught her fists and stilled her motions as gently as he could.

“Shh, Hadara, shh. It’s me, it’s Odo.”

“Odo!” she sobbed. She gave up her struggle and dropped her head on his chest. Her body shook and trembled as her tears began to fall.

Odo’s hand instinctually rose up to smooth her hair, but he caught himself. He dropped his arm to his side. He stood still and let Hadara’s tears soak the front of his tunic.

After she calmed enough to hear him, he said, “I’ve negotiated passage off the station for you.”

Hadara’s tears stopped and she looked up at him. The hope in her eyes made whatever Odo had promised Quark worth it, with interest. 

“Really?” she said. “I can go home?”

“Yes,” he said, “although there are some conditions. I’m afraid I’ve promised your bracelet to a smuggler.”

Hadara looked down at the smooth, blood-red stones circling her wrist and her lip curled with disgust. “It’s not mine. It’s Marcine’s. And the smuggler can have it.”

Odo told Hadara the rest of the details of his deal with Quark. He asked Hadara if she could find her way once she arrived in Dahkur City. She said she could. Her parents had friends in Dahkur, assuming they were still living. From there, she could seek her parents’ village.

M’Pella entered the closet then, a dark gray cloak draped over one arm and a folded bundle of clothes cradled in the other. A new pair of boots rested on top of the clothes.

“I logged you out,” she told Odo.

Hadara began to get up from the table. It was painful to watch. Sleep had stiffened her injured body. She held her ribs and winced as she gingerly placed her feet on the floor. As she eased into a standing position, her legs shook and threatened to drop her. She grabbed Odo’s arm to keep herself upright.

M’Pella immediately moved forward to help. She introduced herself as she covered Hadara with the new cloak, draping it over the old one and hiding the blue behind the gray. She bent her tall, elegant form to the floor. She took off Hadara’s single dirty shoe and helped Hadara put on her new boots. She straightened and smiled warmly.

“Come,” M’Pella said, offering Hadara her arm. “Let’s get you out of here, my dear.”

Hadara, Odo, and M’Pella filed out of the closet. Parnok was still at the desk, tied up on the com. He shot Odo an acknowledging look and a wave. Odo waved back and started to follow the women out of security. 

M’Pella turned to Odo. “Odo, you can’t follow us,” she said. “It will draw attention.”

“Hired men are looking for her,” Odo said. “We’ve placed you in as much danger if they find her. You should have an escort in case you’re stopped.”

M’Pella tossed her dark hair over her shoulder and gave a flirtatious giggle. She wrapped a companionable arm around Hadara. “Oh, we’re not looking for any trouble, sir. I’m just showing Quark’s new girl around the station. What’s the harm in that?” Her smile faded and she dropped her Dabo girl mask. “Odo, I know what I’m doing. No one will stop us. I’ll let you know when she’s away.”

Hadara stepped from under M’Pella’s arm. She took a step closer to Odo. “Then I guess this is goodbye.”

“I, uh…Yes,” Odo said. “I guess it is.”

Hadara moved even closer to Odo, very close. Before Odo could ask what she was about, she lifted her arms, circled them around his chest, and rested her head on his shoulder. She squeezed his ribs, though there wasn’t much strength in it. Odo wondered what it cost her in pain to embrace him in such a fashion and why she would do such a thing, and then it occurred to him. This was that thing he’d seen so many humanoids do, but had never tried himself. Never been given before. This was a hug. Hadara was hugging him.

Odo’s arms raised from his sides to hug Hadara back, but he was too late. She was already releasing him. Tears shimmered in her eyes as she stepped back.

“Odo, I can’t thank you enough for all you’ve done for me.”

“It wasn’t just me,” Odo said. “I had help.”

“But you were the one to get it for me,” Hadara replied. “If I can ever repay you, I will. Can I contact you when I get to Bajor?”

“That’s not a good idea. That could be dangerous for both of us.”

Hadara nodded and wiped her eyes. “Of course, you’re right, that would be foolish,” she said. She squared her shoulders. “Then, goodbye, my friend.”

“Goodbye…friend.”

Hadara rejoined M’Pella. Together, the women left security. Odo watched them go, more than a little worried he wasn't going with them, but M’Pella was probably right about drawing attention. He had to trust she knew what she was doing. He stood straight and tall, still and in place, and watched the first person to name him a friend walk out of his life.

Odo had no time to grieve the loss. Within minutes of Hadara’s departure, the Promenade woke up and the first problem of the day presented itself. One of the merchants came to security to report a vandalism. The same vandal struck in two other places, and Odo’s focus for the remainder of the day was on his work. Odo worked hard and he worked well, pouring all of himself into the investigation, including the mad energy of worrying about Hadara and whether the Earth man would keep his word, and whether she made it to Bajor, and whether she would find her parents. The anxiety about Hadara’s safety, the sadness Odo would have had for her departure, for no longer seeing her each day and spending time with her, for no longer having something to look forward to each morning, all was transformed into fuel Odo used to aid him in his search for a petty criminal. And, since Odo had such vast stores of this anxious energy to fuel his hunt, by the end of the day, he was successful. The vandal was caught, processed, and in holding by the end of Odo’s shift.

However, Odo’s work still wasn’t done. There was still the matter of the infamous Glin Marcine. Odo still needed to figure out what to do about him. 

As Gil Parnok had predicted, Glin Marcine made his appearance in security the next day to report the loss of his property, but it was when Odo and Parnok were off shift. Thrax had to deal with him. Thrax took Marcine’s complaint and began a search for the missing woman, but he’d found nothing conclusive. The woman remained missing. Thrax met with Odo and Parnok to discuss what he did find. Thrax had some serious concerns as the security sensors indicated Marcine’s comfort woman had been in security during shift change. Everyone should have seen her. However, none of the security agents could recall seeing a woman matching her description. When asked the same question, Odo and Parnok feigned ignorance. Odo was certain Thrax didn’t buy it, but Thrax didn’t have much choice. There were no witnesses to contradict the security agents’ statements and the security sensors were apparently malfunctioning that day. Sensors had detected the woman’s entrance to security, but shortly after, she’d ghosted off the sensor logs. Her biosignature appeared briefly a couple of hours later and was gone again.

Odo found this information about sensor ghosts quite interesting. His closet was a sensor blind spot. That was a very good thing to know. If the Cardassians were as smart as they thought they were, they’d have installed a camera surveillance system to back up the sensors. It was an old fashioned form of surveillance, but an effective one. Maybe later, when all this was over, Odo would introduce the idea.

After Odo’s meeting with Thrax, Odo went on with business as usual, even if he didn’t at all feel like business as usual. He was nervous as hell. Thrax wasn’t easily duped, and Odo and Parnok were now on Thrax’s radar, justifiably so, and Odo had no idea what to do about it. He’d never had to get himself out of this kind of trouble before, but more than himself, Odo worried about Parnok. Odo’s shapeshifting abilities gave him the advantage to get away and disappear if things got rough. Parnok didn’t have such advantages. Odo felt personally responsible for Parnok’s predicament and it seemed only fair Odo should find a way to fix it and keep him safe. 

Odo was patrolling the Promenade, still contemplating the best way to clear himself and his accomplice, when a Lurian trader stopped him and asked for a moment of his time. Odo didn’t know the big man, but he had seen him before. At Quark’s, maybe? He was also infectiously friendly. Even Odo’s master-level dourness was banked by the man’s easy-going aspect. 

The Lurian clapped Odo’s shoulder with a thick, pale-skinned club of a hand and told Odo he had something for him. From a hidden pocket on his quilted spacesuit, he produced a single gold earring with an opaque red stone. He dropped it into Odo’s palm. The Lurian said he’d stopped at his buddy’s bar for a drink or three that morning, and M’Pella had asked him to pass the earring along. M’Pella wanted security to have it, just in case anyone was searching for it.

Odo got the message all the way around. This gregarious Lurian trader was Quark’s friend. The earring was Hadara’s. M’Pella was telling him all was well. With the knowledge that Hadara was safely off of Terok Nor, Odo finally felt bold enough do something about Glin Marcine. Something permanent.

Odo’s first order of business was to process the evidence. He synced the hand scanner he’d used to collect the evidence from Hadara’s assault and rape to the main the computer, but didn’t download the data. His investigation had to stay off the record or he’d tip off Thrax. He ran the evidence processing program through the hand scanner and when it kicked back its findings, Odo was dumbfounded. None of the physical evidence from Hadara’s rape kit fit Marcine except one set of prints found on Hadara’s upper arm and some cellular evidence near the place where her cheek was struck. The other evidence—the scale samples, the bite patterns, the DNA sample—none of it matched Marcine’s military records. All the computer could tell Odo was that her attacker was Cardassian and male, and that he had no vetted profile, which meant he wasn’t military. He was dealing with a civilian third party in this crime. But who? Like most of the shady dealers on this station, Marcine had bypassed the guest log tracking feature for his quarters, so Odo had no way of knowing who had visited Marcine that night without going through official channels.  

From an investigator’s perspective, Odo had made a big mistake in letting Hadara go. He no longer had access to the primary witness in the case who could tell him what really happened that night. Personally, he didn’t give a damn what the evidence said as even one set of prints implicated Marcine as an accessory to Hadara’s attack, and that was enough for Odo to hold him responsible. Even if Marcine wasn't the man who raped her, he'd still been part of her brutalization. The cellular evidence showed he’d been the one who’d broken her cheekbone, but that wouldn’t matter much to a Cardassian court. Raping a salve was illegal, but beating one wasn’t. With no witnesses, no other corroborating evidence, and no permission to file criminal charges against a glin without going through Thrax, there was no way for Odo to make Marcine pay for what he’d done, except the wrong way.

And in this instance, Odo had no moral objections to handling things the wrong way.


	7. Chapter 7

Each work day, after Odo finished his scheduled shift in security, he had several unfilled hours before his regeneration cycle occurred. Usually, he spent this unfilled time working. Since Odo wasn’t a humanoid and didn’t need rest, food, or other recreation, Odo had nothing better to do but work. If he decided not to work, he wandered the station instead, prying into the nooks and crannies of Terok Nor, drilling himself to recall station layouts and traffic patterns from memory. Barring that, he took a datapad to his closet, sat cross-legged on the worktable, and read. When Odo was first assigned to security, Thrax had tasked Odo to educate himself about the Cardassian criminal justice system if he wanted to keep his position, and Odo had done so, and other planetary justice systems besides. Furthering his knowledge of intergalactic law had become less an assigned task for Odo and more a happy pastime. Despite the razor-thin line of right versus wrong he was constantly walking by working for the Cardassian security force, Odo still enjoyed his work in criminal justice. He also enjoyed making himself better at it. Odo found it pleased him in some inexplicable yet ingrained way to be part of an ordered structure. 

Through his studies, however, Odo discovered that the rule of law—no matter the planet—was never consistent. Laws were relative to culture, to who was in power, and by what methods that power was obtained. Law was also subject to the will of the people, and the people’s will changed as a society evolved. A society’s code of law sometimes had little to do with what was inherently just. Everything Odo had done to save Hadara’s life was illegal according to the Cardassians and he could be penalized for it, yet none of what had been done to her was susceptible to the same principles under their high-minded rule-making, and why? Simply because of the wrinkles on her nose. There was no justice, no order whatsoever in such hypocrisy. With no legal way to get justice for Hadara, for once in his ordered existence, Odo decided he wasn’t going to play by the rules.

Odo knew through Hadara’s stories that Marcine received regular shipments of imported food and spirits for his parties. That knowledge gave Odo his in to Marcine’s quarters. Computer programming was another hobby of Odo’s, one he’d also spent some time studying, and he was becoming quite the creative user, which also helped him with his plan. Odo easily hacked his way into Marcine’s personal database and looked up his order history, by which ship and when he was expecting any merchandise. Odo also studied the layout of Marcine’s living quarters from the station’s original designs, memorizing the position of every nook, cranny, and closet. Then, Odo told Thrax he’d be taking his very first day off. Thrax found it strange, but didn’t question Odo. He was entitled to a day off, always had been.

When the day Odo selected arrived, Odo hid himself in cargo bay eleven, disguised as a ceiling beam, and observed from above as Marcine’s shipment—just a single case of kanar on this run— was offloaded. When the cargo bay was quiet, Odo shed the form of the ceiling beam and let his unshaped mass drop in an amber flow to the floor. He resumed humanoid form, opened the shipping container, and removed a bottle of kanar. He turned the bottle over in his hands, studying its appearance, its texture, its surfacing. Then he opened the bottle and slid his fingertip under the rim of the glass so his sensory matrix could read the cellular composition of the bottle’s contents. Once he had the cellular patterns of the bottle and the kanar committed to memory, he used a replicator to dispose of the original bottle and hide the evidence. 

Odo returned to the shipping container, shed his humanoid guise again, and poured himself inside. He threw out a small amber tendril to grab the edge of the lid and pull it down behind him. He felt the locking mechanism click into place and knew he was safely sealed inside the box. He then morphed into an exact replica of the missing kanar bottle, right down to the wax seal bearing the maker’s mark and the maker’s secret formula inside of it. When one of Marcine’s servants came to claim the shipment and take it back to Marcine’s quarters, they were none the wiser that Marcine’s kanar order contained a little something extra.

Waiting was something Odo was good at, and it was a good thing, because Odo waited in the shipping container for a long time. Most of a day had passed by the time Marcine’s quarters were quiet enough for Odo to risk oozing out of his box. When he did, he found himself inside another dark place. No light warmed the surface of his liquid state. Odo recalled Marcine’s room plans and figured he was likely inside Marcine’s wine pantry. He kept his liquid mass compact for a moment, then let himself spread slowly across the floor to test the space. Tentative, liquid-amber tendrils spread out from his center to help Odo get his bearings. One of them found the bottom crack of the door where it met the floor. He glided silently to the door and rested against it, using his natural senses to detect any vibrations of sound. There was nothing—no footfalls, no voices, just the constant, deep thrum of Terok Nor itself. Marcine’s quarters were currently empty.

Odo formed another amber tendril and sent it high to tap the closet door control. The door slid open. Quickly, quietly, and still in his natural state, he slithered through Marcine’s quarters and to his bedroom door. He increased his mass just enough to trigger the door sensor. The door slid open and Odo slid inside. Once inside, Odo formed his humanoid guise and searched Marcine’s room for the right place to hide. He settled on mirroring the surface of Marcine’s comm panel. Before Odo changed form, though, he took a moment to set a very small but very important object he’d carried with him inside his matrix on the handsome surface of Marcine’s dresser.

Odo shed his form once again, slid up the wall, and covered the comm panel. He mimicked the glossy, black surface of the panel perfectly, including the Cardassian command icons. He allowed the panel lights to glare through him just as they would the real overlay. The comm panel would even work if Odo wanted it to. In this case, he didn’t. Covering the comm panel created the double insurance Marcine couldn’t call for help when Odo executed his plan.

Odo had another long wait as afternoon gave in to early evening. At the time Odo had predicted, the outer door of Marcine’s quarters opened. Odo felt the vibration of the door mechanism through the wall. He also picked up three distinct pitches of voice, all male. Their boots thudded dully on the carpeted floor, confirming his count. One voice belonged to the man of the hour. The other two would belong to his personal guard who had been on watch outside his door. When Odo hacked Marcine’s computer, he’d also checked Marcine’s work schedule, his itinerary. Marcine was off shift from his duties as a glin, such as they were, and in a couple of hours, one of his parties was scheduled to start. By listening to Hadara’s stories and learning about Marcine’s habits, Odo knew that Marcine would now have a meal and a drink. Then he would go to his bedroom to shower and don a fresh uniform before the evening’s festivities began.

As Odo waited for Marcine to finish his meal and head to his bedroom, Odo’s patience started to wear thin. He wanted his eyes back. He couldn’t see in this form, not in the way humanoids thought of it, and operating in their world was much easier when he had eyes to observe it with. He stifled his impatience, reminded himself that he was almost there, it was almost time, that any misstep now would make the entire day and all his careful waiting a waste. And probably get him killed.

Finally, Marcine’s bedroom door slid open. Still, Odo had to wait. He wanted to spring on Marcine at the right moment, and that would be between the shower and his wardrobe change. A naked humanoid was a vulnerable humanoid, and Odo wanted Marcine as vulnerable as he could make him.

The sounds of Marcine moving about his quarters provided Odo a sort of echolocation to orient himself by. He heard walking, rustling. Marcine hummed Cardassian music. Classical. Odo recognized it. Marcine could carry a tune. The music drifted farther from Odo’s location and the door to Marcine’s bathroom opened. Odo felt more than heard the sonic shower come on. That was Odo’s cue to be ready.

Sonic showers were short, only about two minutes. Marcine’s lasted one-hundred fifteen seconds by Odo’s count. The drone of the shower stopped and a few seconds later, the bathroom door opened again. Footfalls across the carpet, more humming, coming closer and—

_ Now! _

Odo let his form go and let his mass fall to the floor. He took humanoid form. Before it was fully completed, Odo lunged at Marcine. He’d timed his attack perfectly. Marcine’s back was to him and he was distracted by the small object Odo had left on his dresser. Marince was caught completely off-guard when a man-shaped amber blur hit his back.

Odo slammed Marcine’s naked body against the wall and pinned him to it, face first. Marcine’s mouth opened to shout, but Odo’s substance wrapped around his neck, cutting off his air. Marcine’s shout came out as a useless rasp.

“Quiet!” Odo hissed.

Marcine struggled, tried to speak. Odo tightened his grip. “I said quiet!”

Marcine went still.

“That’s better,” Odo said. “Now, Glabec Marcine, you are going to listen to me, and you are going to listen well. I am here to deliver a warning.”

The side of Marcine’s face was pressed against the wall, his one visible eye a green and bulging orb of fear. Air whistled through his half-smashed nose. He managed a nod. Odo had his attention.

“A friend of mine has experienced some very poor treatment at your hands,” Odo began. “ _ Very  _ poor. Six nights ago, your treatment of her culminated in an act so reprehensible, I can’t even speak of it. But I’m certain you know exactly who I’m talking about and exactly what was done to her. Am I wrong?”

Marcine struggled, tried to speak. Odo squeezed Marcine’s throat a little tighter. “Quiet!” Odo said. “I said you were to listen, not talk. Nod if you understand.”

Marcine’s body went slack. He nodded.

“I know,” Odo continued, “you were not her rapist, but I am sure you were still involved in her terror. I have evidence you were. I also know you threatened her life, her parents. Do you deny any of this, Marcine?”

Marcine hesitated. He nodded once, to the negative.

“Good,” Odo said. “Being truthful is good. In return, I shall give you some truth.”

Odo let go of Marcine’s throat and turned him around. He pressed his forearm over Marcine’s neck. They were face-to-face. 

“Do you know who I am, Marcine? What I am?”

Marcine licked his scaled lips. “The shapeshifter,” he said, his voice a bare whisper.

“That’s right, Marcine, the shapeshifter. The undefined. The alien. I am showing you my face because I don’t want you to forget it. I want you to know who it was that broke into your guarded quarters, threatened you, attacked you, and who it is that has your life in his hands. I want you to remember this face because I am here to tell you that if anything happens to my friend or anyone she cares about, this face is the last thing you’ll ever see.”

Marcine twisted under Odo’s arm, trying to push it off, trying speak. Odo let up enough to allow it.

“You have a made a terrible mistake, shapeshifter,” Marcine rasped. “My family will  _ ruin  _ you!”

“No,” Odo replied, “they won’t. You and your family’s money can do nothing to me. I am not humanoid, Marcine. I have nothing you can take from me; I need nothing you can deny me. For over fifty years, I survived in dead space. I can live on nothing at all. And if you force me into hiding, into hiding I will go, somewhere near you, and you will never, ever know I’m there. Today, I was your comm panel, tomorrow I could be a phaser, a knife, a pillow on your bed. I can even be the air you breathe, Marcine. And if you threaten me or anyone else on this station again, I will be. I will fill your lungs like poison gas and destroy you from the inside out.”

To drive his point home, Odo reached to Marcine’s dresser. He picked up the object he’d left there. He held it in the flat of his hand and showed it to Marcine.

“You recognize this, yes? It’s my understanding you chose the set. I’ve been debating with myself, though, as I don’t have much knowledge of gemstones. Is the stone in this earring a Betazoid blood ruby?”

Marcine’s face twisted with rage. He bucked his body, trying to free himself from Odo’s weight. It was a wasted effort. Marcine was no match for a shapeshifter. Odo leaned harder on the arm over Marcine’s neck and kept him pinned.

“Before you try whatever it is you’re thinking of trying, Marcine, allow me to give you a demonstration. Let me show you what an angry shapeshifter can do to solid matter.”

Odo held up his palm again and waited until Marcine’s attention went back to the earring. Small, hair-fine amber tendrils of Odo’s substance grew up from the palm of his hand and over the earring, probing the stone. They pressed the hard surface of the stone, slowly at first, then more forcefully, worming their way slowly inside. A sharp  _ pop _ sounded as the hard, red stone split. The cracks spread and the stone’s structure weakened. The center of Odo’s palm melted to its natural amber state and enveloped the broken stone completely. He merged with it at the cellular level and took the stone apart molecule by molecule. The amber gel receded as Odo’s hand returned to humanoid form. In the palm of Odo’s reformed hand was a pile of red dust and bent gold. Odo made sure Marcine got a good look and then turned his hand. He tumbled ruby dust onto Marcine’s feet.

_ “Monster!”  _ Marcine spat.

“Yes, Marcine,” Odo said. “I am a monster. But you are something far worse.”

Odo released Marcine. Odo took a step back to put some distance between himself and Marcine and gave Marcine one last warning. 

“I’m going to leave now, quietly, and assuming you give me no reason, you won’t hear from me again. But should you give me reason, I will return and we will revisit this conversation, only I will not be so patient. Do we have an understanding?”

“Yes, shapeshifter!” Marcine said through gritted teeth. “Now get… _ out!” _

Odo turned to leave. As soon as Odo’s back was turned, he heard the slide and rattle of an opening drawer and Marcine’s rapid footfalls pounding the thin carpet. Marcine was rushing toward Odo’s turned back. Odo rolled his eyes and stopped walking, but didn’t turn around. Marcine had not been listening. Already, Odo needed to repeat himself.

Odo let Marcine attack him. Cold steel pierced Odo’s shoulder. It was withdrawn and plunged again and again. The blade piercing his substance was cold, sharp, it hurt, but Odo let it happen, let Marcine knife him over and over. By the tenth stab, Odo absorbed the impact from the blade, and instead of letting Marcine withdraw it, wrapped it tight in his substance. He twisted around to face Marcine, wrenching the handle of the blade from Marcine’s grasp. The handle stuck out from Odo’s back, the blade plunged in his shoulder up to the guard. Marcine was breathless, crazed, confused. Odo read the question in his eyes. How could anyone get stabbed that many times and not fall?

“I told you, Marcine,” Odo said. He reached back and pulled the dagger from his back. He tossed it at Marcine’s feet. “I’m a shapeshifter. You can’t hurt me. But I do find being stabbed in the back rather annoying.”

Odo pulled his arm back, made a fist, and popped Marcine square on the jaw. Something in Marcine’s face crunched as the punch connected. Odo couldn’t help but feel extremely satisfied by the sound. Marcine staggered, swayed, and collapsed naked on his bedroom floor.

Odo stooped down and checked to make sure Marcine was still breathing. He was almost disappointed when the answer was yes. Marcine was already showing signs of coming around, meaning he’d only fainted, not been cold-cocked. Odo made a sound of disgust and rose to leave. He left Marcine to help himself up.

As Odo passed into Marcine’s living area and made his way to the door, he waved casually at Marine’s confused personal guards. The guards quickly recovered from their confusion. Two more roundhouse punches made it clear Odo could show himself out and that he should not be pursued. Odo heard nothing from Glin Marcine in the days that followed. No one did. A week after his little chat with Odo, Glin Marcine was mysteriously recalled to Cardassia. Gul Dukat proclaimed Marcine’s departure from Terok Nor some of the best news he’d heard in the last decade. Odo couldn’t help but agree with Gul Dukat. 

 


	8. Chapter 8

 

 

“So let me get this straight,” Kira said. She sat up higher on the sofa of their hotel room, perching herself on the edge. “Hadara Mari was the first person to hug you? Ever?”

“Yes,” Odo replied.

Kira covered her eyes and heaved a sigh. “Prophets, Odo, how do you even look at Doctor Mora, much less talk to him?”

“Because it’s not Doctor Mora’s fault, Nerys, not directly. I didn’t exactly invite affection while I was in the lab. I was rather… _ difficult _ sometimes. The scientists were well aware of how different I am, what I’m capable of. Frankly, I wouldn’t have hugged me, either.”

Kira gave Odo an assessing look before going on. “If you say so. But Hadara Mari was the first person you considered a friend?”

A friend? Yes, but not on the same level of friendship Odo would have with the people who came into his life after her—Miles, Julian, Lwaxana. Daxes Jadzia and Ezri. It was because of Hadara, because of her frank acceptance of him, her trust in him, and the experience of caring for the needs of someone other than himself that he could even foster the idea of letting others know him at all, though he hadn’t grown much better at it over the years. Except with Kira. But as far as Odo’s friendships went, Kira Nerys was in a category all her own.

“Yes,” Odo said, looking away. “She was a friend.”

“And what about Gil Parnok? What happened to him?”

“He was transferred off Terok Nor shortly after Marcine bolted,” Odo replied. “Thrax was responsible for that. He knew Parnok and I were colluding about something, but he couldn’t prove what. He also knew he couldn’t do anything to me without angering Dukat, so transferring Parnok was his assurance Parnok and I would end our association. Parnok, I did keep in touch with, though, for several years. He was one of those ‘anonymous sources’ you’ve heard me mention from time to time…That was, until he was killed in a skirmish with the Federation last year.”

Kira made a sound of sympathy. “If there is anything you and I have in common, Odo, it is lost contacts. Do you think Hadara’s murder has anything to do with what happened to her on Terok Nor?”

“Nerys, I never rule anything out. It is possible. I never learned what happened to Marcine after the Occupation ended.”

“And you never, ever told me any of this story,” Kira replied. “Or, really, any of these stories about your insanely difficult past that seem to involuntarily crop up from time to time and seem to constantly impact our present, stories that always teach me something completely new about you and always end up reminding me what an incredible being you are, how  _ amazing  _ you are, and how much work you do to hide that from the rest of us, how much even I can take you for granted because of that and—“

Kira cut herself off from her rant and took a calming breath. When she met Odo’s gaze again, her eyes glimmered with a slight hint of tears. “ _ Why _ , Odo? Why do you not tell me these things and let me help you with them?”

“In this case, Nerys, is wasn’t my story to tell. It was Hadara’s.”

That was only half the truth. Hadara’s privacy mattered, but the truth was Odo didn’t tell Kira these kinds of things about himself because no matter his past troubles, hers were much deeper. The last thing Kira needed was his burden added to hers. Besides, Odo had never been proud of what he’d done to Marcine. Such brutishness wasn’t his way, but at the time, he’d felt it was the only way. He had never intended to tell anyone about the thuggish tactics he’d used to scare Marcine off Terok Nor. Painting himself in such a light only enhanced his reputation as a potential threat to the humanoid world, a perception Odo was anxious to downplay, because truth be told, he easily could be. He had the power to be much more dangerous than he ever let on. The violent acts of vengeance he’d threatened to rain down upon Marcine were not bluster. He was physically capable of committing every single one, and even worse things, though spiritually, he found the idea abhorrent. However, as usual, despite her complaints and despite his intentions, he had told Kira the whole ugly truth.

“Did you ever seek Hadara out after the Occupation?” Kira asked.

“No,” Odo said. “I knew she was still living, and that’s as far as I got. It was always my intent to contact her, but I could never work up the nerve. And then, after all we’ve been through since the withdrawal—the Circle, the Federation, the Dominion—so many matters have demanded my attention, I never did decide what to do about Hadara. Truthfully, Nerys, it had been so long since I’d spoken with her that I’d resigned Hadara as part of my past and moved on. Until we saw her yesterday.”

“It seemed she still considered you a friend,” Kira said. “She said herself she was happy to see you.”

“It did appear so,” Odo said, “and now…” He trailed off, remembering Hadara’s abrupt departure the day before. The tears in her eyes. How he’d let her go. “And now I can’t help but feel I’ve somehow failed her. Again.”

“Oh, Odo, please don’t do that,” Kira said. She took Odo’s hand in hers and lifted it to her lips. “Don’t do that to yourself. You aren’t responsible for what happened to Hadara Mari, then or now.”

“Nerys, I know you’re right, but it’s not how I feel. I never felt I did enough for her on Terok Nor. But what if what I did manage to do is why Hadara is dead now? What if it was Marcine? What if I provoked him instead of scared him off and this was his revenge?”

“Odo, you did so much for her, you did more than anyone else in your position would’ve done, and her death is not your fault. Whoever killed her is at fault. But you always do this, you always take on responsibility that isn’t yours, so I know you’re not going to believe you’re blameless until you have proof. So, I say go get it. Take over this case, get Hadara Mari the justice she’s due by finding her killer, and get your proof.”

“Nerys, this isn’t my jurisdiction,” Odo replied. “Besides, this week is supposed to be spent with you, and I can’t do that if I’m working a case.”

“Odo, never  _ mind  _ about me. Our vacation is already over. You won’t be able to relax at all under these circumstances.” 

“Probably not,” Odo agreed.

“And you wouldn’t be the person I know and love if you could.”

“Probably not," Odo agreed.

“And after the story you just told me, I don’t buy that jurisdiction is the real issue. Rules can be bent, we both know that, and we’ve both been willing to do it on more than one occasion. It’s another thing we have in common. So what’s your real hang-up?”

Odo paused to gather his thoughts. He picked up Kira’s hand and held it in his as he formed an answer. "Terok Nor was a different time for me, Nerys,” he began. “Very different. I’m not in the same precarious position as I was when I worked for the Cardassians. I’m not the same person. I am no longer forced to serve the law, I choose to serve. I have my freedom now, I have a choice, I can speak out without getting myself or someone else killed, and I respect the systems that make those things possible for all of us. I’m an agent of Bajoran law now, and in an investigation like this, rules have to be followed or the criminal case could be compromised. Inspector Krenn is the detective assigned to this area and his authority should be respected. I don’t have any right to interfere.”

“Odo, what is more important? Jurisdiction or justice? And since this is now, and not then, can you name anyone currently in authority in the Bajoran sector more qualified than you are to investigate this murder?”

He couldn’t. There wasn’t. Kira was right, about everything, but he was hesitant to tell her so. He still didn’t feel he had the right to interfere, and still wasn’t sure he wanted to, not this time, even though there was a good chance his actions eight years ago had set these harrowing events in motion. It wasn’t like Odo to feel so defeated or to shirk responsibility, but maybe that was another thing taking a vacation and finally getting away from the station and his work had done for him. It had shown him what it was really like to set down his burdens, even for a day, and he found himself loath to pick them up again.

Yet still, he couldn’t rid himself of the memory of Hadara’s body. Of her broken beads and her broken fingernails. Of the bloody scratches she’d carved on the tile. Of seeing her cold and dead and alone, reaching for help that never came.

Kira reached to Odo’s chest and touched his combadge. “Kira to _ Rio Grande." _

“What are you doing?” Odo asked.

Kira ignored him. The computer chirped back, ready for Kira’s command. “Computer, establish a secured, direct link to the Office of the First Minister of Bajor. Authorization, Kira one-nine Alpha.”

“Nerys, what are you doing?”

“Pulling rank, cashing in favors, and getting you your jurisdiction.”

“No, Nerys, this isn’t the right way, I—“

Kira cut him off with a silencing gesture. The transmission had connected. A familiar male voice emitted from Odo’s combadge.

_ "Kira Nerys, what are you up to?” _

“I’m on vacation,” Kira replied. “Odo’s here with me, Edon. He can hear you. We’re staying at the Latara.”

_ “Oh?” _ Shakaar replied.  _ “How is it? Are you enjoying yourselves?” _

“It’s beautiful, and not really,” Kira said. “Edon, something has happened here. Something you need to know about.”

Kira proceeded to inform First Minister Shakaar about the disturbing events at the Latara. News of Hadara’s death hadn’t yet reached him and he was shocked that her death was being investigated as a murder. She wasn’t a high-ranking member of his staff. He knew her only by reputation, but he had no idea why anyone would want her dead. As far as Shakar knew, she was well-liked in Bajor’s administrative offices.

Kira briefed Shakaar on meeting Hadara, on her connection to Odo. She then stated the purpose of her transmission—to ask Shakaar to pull some strings and get Odo put on the case.

_ “Done,” _ Shakaar said.  _ “Hadara Mari was an agent of my office, Odo. That makes her death a matter of planetary security. Military involvement is easy to justify. However, I’m going to ask you to work cooperatively with the local police force and the inspector in charge. I’m sure you understand why.” _

Politics. At a time like this. “I do,” Odo replied. “I appreciate your confidence, First Minister. Thank you for allowing me to assist with the case.”

_ “I should be thanking you, Odo. Bajor has many skilled investigators on the police force, but not one of them is on your level. Please keep my office apprised of your findings.” _

“Of course, sir,” Odo replied.

Shakaar turned the conversation back to Kira. They talked for less than half a minute before Shakaar was called away. Shakaar made some hasty goodbyes and signed off.

“That’s done.” Kira said. “Now, it’s your turn.”

“For what?”

Kira nodded at Odo’s combadge. “I think you have a certain police inspector to contact. You have work to do, and there’s no time to waste.”

Odo recalled the mess the police force was making of the crime scene. Kira was right about not wasting time. He needed to get back to the lobby before they made things worse than they already had. He lifted his hand to his combadge to make the call, but he stopped short.

Instead of reaching for his combadge, Odo reached for Kira. He bunched the white bodice of her dress in his fist, pulled her to him, and caught her mouth with his. He’d given her no warning, he gave her no quarter, but her mouth was still soft, yielding, open to him. Odo took full advantage of her surrender. It was fierce, the kiss he gave her, passionate, and said so many of those things he could never tell her.

Odo released Kira’s mouth. Kira rested her head on his shoulder and caught her breath. 

Odo activated his combadge. “Security Chief Odo to Inspector Krenn. Respond.”

***

Odo was too late to view the crime scene intact. By the time he’d called Krenn, Hadara’s body had already been moved. Her body had been sent to the medical examiner’s office in Jamal for autopsy. Her office had been sealed, the force field generators removed, and the hotel had been evacuated of the majority of police personnel. For the Latara, it was back to business as usual. Inspector Krenn was about to leave like the rest, but Odo delayed him, asking Krenn to wait for him in the lobby. Krenn reluctantly agreed.

Kira, of course, insisted on going with Odo to the crime scene. Odo, of course, refused. He didn’t want Kira involved. Having Kira with him would be a distraction more than a help, and besides, one of them should attempt to get some kind of rest during their vacation. Odo wanted Kira to find what enjoyment she could under the circumstances. After some fiery talking points from Kira about why Odo was wrong, and some faultless rebuttal from him about why he wasn’t, Kira conceded. She would stay behind, but she wasn’t happy about it. And Odo knew where to find her if he changed his mind.

Odo stepped away from Kira to initiate another form change. He traded his vacation clothes for his brown militia uniform. He returned to Kira and cupped her face in his hands.

“Listen to me,” he said. “Be careful when you go about. Somewhere in this hotel, a murderer is running loose.”

“Odo, you don’t need to worry about me,” Kira said. “I can take care of myself.”

Truer words were never spoken, but Odo still asked for Kira’s word she’d be cautious. She gave it to him. He kissed her one more time and left the room.

On Odo’s way to the lobby, he took a short detour. He transported to the  _ Rio Grande _ to pick up some equipment he needed, but no weapons. Odo’s personal anti-firearm policy was still in effect. He’d never needed a weapon to do his job and this case shouldn’t be any different, but he did need some other equipment for the forensic investigation. He quickly selected what he needed from the Rio Grande’s stores and stuffed the equipment he purloined into a carry-all. Then, he headed back to the hotel lobby.

In the hotel, Odo searched for and found Inspector Krenn. The inspector was pacing the floor in front of Hadara’s sealed office door. Krenn’s scowl deepened when he met Odo’s gaze, and as soon as Odo was close enough, Krenn rounded on him. Someone had already filled Krenn in on the change of jurisdiction.

Inspector Krenn was quite verbally expressive as he conveyed his displeasure about having Odo involved in his investigation, using some very colorful language to convey his feelings on the matter. Odo didn’t blame him and let Krenn vent. Odo would’ve felt the same way about having another investigator on his turf, but he didn’t harbor any guilt for barging in on Krenn’s case. After all, finding out who murdered Hadara Mari and why was more important than the ego of a couple of law enforcement officers. Odo assured Krenn he was only there to help and that the investigation still belonged to him.

“Sure it does,” Krenn said with a smirk. “That’s why the First Minister’s office is interfering with my case on your behalf. Must be nice to know people in such high places.”

“I am sorry about that,” Odo said. “I wouldn’t have done things so high-handedly, but the matter was decided for me. Think of me as an assigned consultant. I’m just here to help.”

That simple word seemed to shift Krenn’s attitude. He relaxed his stance but not his tone. “Well, whatever I want to call you, you’re here, so we may as well get started. First, I need to eliminate you and Colonel Kira as suspects. You are aware you were some of the last people to see Hadara Mari alive?”

“No,” Odo replied. “I wasn’t aware of that.”

“Lucky you, the hotel’s computer confirmed your alibi. According to the access logs, you and the Colonel didn’t leave your room until right before you tried to beat down my forcefield. You two didn’t even go see the beach.” Krenn hesitated before asking his next question. “You know, I have to wonder, who comes to an exclusive beach resort on Bajor’s Maldonain Islands to spend all that time in a hotel room?”

The question was irrelevant, but not flippant. Krenn seemed genuinely curious, so Odo answered him. “Two people very much in love who rarely get that kind of uninterrupted time together.”

Krenn cracked a small smile. “Well, that answers any other questions I had.”

Odo took the opportunity of Krenn’s shifting attitude to make a peace offering. “I brought something that can help with the investigation,” he said. He opened the bag he’d purloined from the runabout and showed the contents to Krenn.

Krenn peered inside the bag and made a low whistle. “Starfleet tricorders.” He pulled one out of the bag and hefted it in his hand. “Bajor is so behind on tech like this. Compared to these babies, we may as well be scanning a crime scene with a rock.”

Odo didn’t tell Krenn he still preferred Bajor’s scanners over Starfleet’s. It had at first been a matter of pride, a refusal by his earlier, post-Occupation self to be charmed by Starfleet’s bells and whistles. Now, it was simply a matter of habit. Krenn was correct about the comparative effectiveness, though.

“I’ve had access to Starfleet technology on DS9,” Odo said, ”and I’m extending that privilege to you. You can hang on to the tricorder while I’m here. Through me, you also have access to a runabout and its computer.”

“Damn,” Krenn said. “I signed up for the wrong gig.”

“When this is over, we can talk about you joining DS9’s security force,” Odo said. He took the other tricorder from the bag and hung it on his belt. “In the meantime, we have work to do. I want to go over the crime scene again.”

“We need to delay that,” Krenn said. “I owe a visit to Hadara’s mother first.”

“I can stay behind and work the scene myself.”

Krenn stuffed his hands in his pockets and looked at his feet. “Actually,” Krenn said, “since you’re here, I would appreciate it if you came with me. I’ve never done this before, never told someone their kin was murdered. I’ve only had this job for six months, and the Islands haven’t seen a murder since the Occupation. This stuff just doesn’t happen here anymore. Truthfully, I’m worried I’m gonna frack this up somehow.”

Odo unfortunately did have experience with telling someone their next of kin had met with a violent end. Too much experience. He was happy to lend that experience to Krenn. Interviewing Hadara’s family was on Odo’s priority list, anyway.

Odo told Krenn he would accompany him. Krenn told Odo Hadara’s mother lived in the village in a house she’d shared with Hadara. Odo suggested they use the  _ Rio Grande’ _ s transporter to save them the time of the walk.

The transporter set Odo and Inspector Krenn in front of a modest, neat house with white stone walls and a flat roof. A paved walkway led to an ochre door shaded by the roof’s overhang. The walkway was bordered by a profusion of tended tropical plants—flowering bushes with bright orange and pink blossoms, dark green plants with broad leaves, clusters of thin, tall grasses, and small palm trees. Insects buzzed lazily around the foliage in the late-morning heat. From the outside, it was a tranquil home.

Krenn rang the door chime. After a brief pause, the ochre door opened. A well-dressed woman with wavy black hair threaded with silver answered. The skin around her dark eyes was swollen, she had been crying, but she was currently composed. She was also quite beautiful, even in her grief. Odo could find much of his dead friend in her mother’s face.

“I thought you would be coming,” Hadara’s mother said. She spared an odd look at Odo and opened the door wider. “Come in.”

“You know why we’re here, then,” Odo said.

“Yes,” she replied. “Mari’s hotel people came here already. They told me she was…She had been… But they couldn’t tell me how.”

Odo and Krenn moved farther into the home where Hadara Mari had lived. Unlike the neutral modernity of the hotel, Hadara’s home was filled with personality and warmth—mahogany woods, textiles in rich colors, personal holoimages. Sculptures, paintings, tapestries, and hand-woven rugs, all Bajoran in make, added a touch of the eclectic. Odo noted there was no prayer mandala, suggesting the family didn’t worship. That wasn’t so unusual these days. Religious worship was less insularly practiced on a post-Occupation Bajor.

Odo’s gaze traveled further around the room and rested on the central seating area, a pillow-piled burgundy red sofa squared with two matching armchairs. Seated in one corner of the sofa and hugging a tasseled pillow like a lifeline was a child. A boy. A half-Cardassian boy.

_ Oh, hell, Odo. How could you not know? _

Hadara’s mother moved around the policemen and sat down next to the boy. She tucked him under her arm. “This is Hadara Duhr,” she said.

Krenn recovered faster than Odo did. “Hello, Duhr,” Krenn said. “I’m Mikos. I’m here to talk to your grandmother. Is that okay with you?”

The boy looked up at Krenn, his hazel, scale-rimmed eyes wide and wary. He nodded once and leaned his cheek on his grandmother’s side.

Krenn eased himself into one of the armchairs. Odo followed Krenn’s lead and they made the rest of the introductions. Hadara’s mother’s given name was Nemina.

“Ma’am, we are sorry for your loss,” Krenn began.

Nemina nodded, fresh tears welling in her eyes. She blinked them back. “What can you tell me?” she asked.

As Krenn spoke with Hadara Nemina, Odo studied the boy tucked still under her arm. The boy studied him back. The boy would be about seven, given what Odo assumed to be the circumstances of his birth, but his size made him seem older. Duhr was big for his age.

“Should he hear this?” Odo asked, nodding at Duhr.

“He will hear it one way or another,” Nemina replied. “This is a small village. People gossip. I would rather Duhr hear the truth about his mother from those who know it than catch rumors on the street.”

Krenn shared a look with Odo before going on. “Then, ma’am, I am sorry to inform you, but we believe your daughter’s death was not natural. We believe she was murdered, and we’re treating her death as such.”

“Why? Who?”

“We don’t know yet.”

“Then how?”

“We don’t know that yet, either,” Krenn said. “Cause of death wasn’t immediately evident. She’s been taken to the medical examiner so we can learn more.”

Odo stopped his study of Duhr and gave his attention to Krenn. These details were new to him, too, and they were unusual. Even with outdated scanning equipment, the Bajoran police should have been able to determine a cause of death. 

“The medical examiner,” Nemina repeated. Her face crumpled. “Oh, my poor Mari.” She covered her mouth against a sob and started rocking herself and Duhr.

Krenn looked to Odo for help. Odo understood his difficulty. What did one say or do to in a situation like this? What could be done to ease the deep grief of a total stranger? Grief their presence was only making worse?

“Madam, we understand this is a difficult time,” Odo stated. “However, in order to move the case forward, we need ask you some questions. About Mari.”

Nemina winced at the sound of her daughter’s given name. She kissed the scaled ridge above her grandson’s brow and pulled in a calming breath.

“Ask your questions, then,” she said. “I’ll do my best to answer them.”

“Do you know of anyone who would want to harm your daughter?” Odo asked.

“Yes,” Nemina said. Her full mouth drew into a bitter pout. “Half this backward village.”

“Can you explain?” Odo asked.

“The hotel is not as popular as the First Minister’s office would have our visitors believe,” Nemina began. “The Latara project was received with mixed feelings. Half the villagers thought using an abandoned monastery as a hotel was a blasphemy and the other half thought it a blessing. The ruins of the monastery were a sad wreck sitting on that cliff, a ruined heap looking down over the village and reminding its citizens every day of the atrocities that happened here. Everyone knew the vedeks had abandoned the land for good, but the Latara is still a significant part of our religious history. The idea of allowing outsiders on what some still considered sacred land produced bitter feelings in the village, and that bitterness got taken out on Mari. When we first moved here and the project made the press, Mari received many threats. Some were to her life. Things only got worse when they found out about Duhr. Oh, such vile things they said to her about her boy! I tried to talk her out this project so many times, to get her to leave this backwater and return to our home in the Dahkur Province, but Mari wouldn’t hear of it.”

“So what made her stay?” Krenn asked.

“I don’t know, really,” Nemina replied. “Her father, if I had to hazard a guess.”

Nemina looked away from Krenn and turned her gaze to the window, to the manicured tropical garden beyond the glass. Her dark gaze turned distant and hazy. 

“My husband died shortly after Mari found her way home. She was almost full-term with Duhr by the time she made it back to our village. The Occupation was coming to an end by then, but it was too late for my husband. After the Cardassians took Mari from us, he developed heart trouble. It broke him, what the Cardassians did to our family, and he never recovered. Before he died, he told Mari he wanted her to live a full life, to make something of herself, to be part of a free Bajor. Everything Mari did after that—her education, her choice of career, her hotel project—it was all to fulfill her father’s wish for her.” She took her gaze off the garden and looked directly at Odo. “I am grateful, Odo, that my husband got to see his daughter before he died, and I am grateful to the man who made that possible. I know who you are, and I know the debt my family owes you.”

Krenn looked at Odo, confused. “Wait, what—

"There is no debt, madam,” Odo said. “Did Hadara tell you anything about the man who fathered Duhr?”

“No,” Nemina replied. “Mari would tell us nothing about her time on Terok Nor except how you were a friend to her. She refused to speak of the rest of it, although a mother doesn’t really need to be told. For years, Mari suffered night terrors, anxiety attacks. When she first came home, she endured full flashbacks. Only recently were her memories starting to fade and give her some peace…” Nemina smoothed Duhr’s night-black hair and smiled tearfully at him. “But Mari never saw Duhr as anything but a blessing, a light in her life to balance all that darkness. He was hers—her boy—and she loved him dearly.”

“What about her personal life?” Krenn asked. “Did she have any friends we should talk to? Any romantic partners?”

“Mari kept to herself,” Nemina said. “Between university and a child at home, and later, all the traveling she did with her work, she didn’t have much time for friends. And as I said, not many are understanding about Duhr. He can’t even attend school here; it’s too dangerous. Bajor’s children are as cruel about Duhr’s heritage as their parents are. I’ve seen to his schooling, but it’s a lonely life for a boy, for all of us. We’ve been a very private family since moving here. As far as romances, if there were any, Mari never mentioned them.”

Krenn had a few more questions about the threats to Hadara. Her mother steered him to Hadara’s social network accounts, said he’d find plenty of suspects there. Odo only half-listened as he continued to study Duhr. The child looked nothing like his mother, except the full shape of his mouth, the elongated neck, although that was also a Cardassian trait. He must look more like Hadara’s attacker. Odo refused to think of the man as Duhr’s father after what he’d done to Duhr’s mother. The man was a swine, not a father, and if Odo felt so strongly about it, what had that been like for Hadara? How much did it test a mother’s love to look at her son each day and see his child’s face becoming that of the man who terrorized her?

"Hadara,” Odo asked, “would it be all right if I took a scan of Duhr?”

“You think Mari’s past has something to do with this?” she asked.

“It might,” Odo replied.

Nemina consented to the scan. Odo took the tricorder off his belt and activated it. The child’s eyes widened and he scooted even closer to his grandmother.

“It won’t hurt,” Odo assured him. He finished the scan as quickly as he could and put the tricorder away.

“I think that’s all we need for now,” Krenn said. He rose from the sofa. “We’ll get out of here and leave you be, but if there’s anything you need from us, if there’s anything we can do to help, you can contact us through the police net at any time.”

Nemina acknowledged Krenn’s invitation. She stood to walk Odo and Krenn to the door. As Nemina rose, Duhr made a small sound of protest and began to follow his grandmother. He held tight to her skirts, his half-alien face looking up at her, a tiny, pallored moon of uncertainty. It twisted Odo’s heart to see such fear expressed on the face of one so young, and also because it was a fear Odo himself was all too familiar with. He, too, was a parentless outsider. 

Unlike Odo, though, Duhr had someone. He had his grandmother. She gently pried her fingers from her skirts and then kissed them, assuring him she’d be right back. He nodded solemnly, stuck his thumb in his mouth, and settled back into the corner of the sofa with his pillow.

Nemina walked the lawmen to her front door. She paused before opening it. She looked up at Krenn. “There is something you can do for us, Inspector. Find the beast who did this to my daughter and bring them to justice. That’s all we need.” Her tears welled again as she held Krenn’s gaze. She rested her hand on Krenn’s forearm. “Tell me, though,” she said. “Did she…Did she suffer? My Mari suffered so much already, and I—”

“No,” Krenn said, covering her hand with his. “She didn’t suffer.”

Nemina nodded, tears spilling down her cheeks. She touched the door panel. Odo and Krenn walked out into the blaring heat of midday and moved down the walkway. The ochre door closed softly behind them. Odo started to hail the Rio Grande and order a transport back to the Latara.

“Odo,” Krenn said.

Odo paused and turned to Krenn.

"I lied,” Krenn said. “Just now. To Hadara’s mother.”

“About what?”

“About Hadara. About her suffering. The scanners couldn’t tell us how she died, but we know her death was bad. The evidence told us it was. I didn’t have the heart to tell her mother that.”

“Krenn, you did fine,” Odo replied. A sudden wrench of grief went through him and threatened to disrupt his matrix. Odo pushed it down deep before it affected his solidity. “You did exactly what I would’ve done.” He activated his combadge. “Odo to  _ Rio Grande. _ Two to transport…”


	9. Chapter 9

 

When Odo requested transport, he had the  _ Rio Grande _ ’s computer return him and Krenn to the ship rather than the hotel. After his discoveries at the Hadaras’ home, Odo had changed his mind about his priorities. Perhaps he had been too judgemental in his estimation of Krenn and the Bajoran police, but he had also been driven by the shock and anger of what he’d witnessed. Odo decided now that his head was a little cooler, he should review what the Bajoran police had found before returning to the crime scene. That way, he and Krenn could be on the same page.

Krenn agreed it was a good idea for Odo to read up, but didn’t want to wait around for it. He didn’t want to lose his momentum. His next stop was Bajor’s central government offices in Dahkur City. Krenn was ready to interview Hadara’s coworkers, see if any of them looked good as suspects. Interviewing Hadara’s coworkers was a standard and relevant step in the investigation, but Odo was content to let Krenn handle that part without him. Odo’s instincts were telling him their killer was still skulking around the island somewhere, not holed up in an office building.

Inspector Krenn transferred the police case file, including evidence scans, holoimages, and witness statements, to the  _ Rio Grande’s _ computer. Krenn left the  _ Rio Grande _ and boarded his police cruiser, also parked on the hotel’s landing pad. As Krenn lifted off and headed for Dahkur City, Odo downloaded the case file and started sifting through the minutia.

Odo started his review of the evidence with the molecular scans of the crime scene. The police scanners hadn’t found much of interest. The particles humanoids always shed in their wake and that coated everything they touched—hairs, body oils, skin cells—all of it was identified as belonging to Hadara or another member of the hotel staff. Surface scans of Hadara’s body also showed no unusual findings. No prints, no DNA, no clothing fibers that weren’t accounted for.

The condition of Hadara’s office had also been catalogued. Hadara’s furniture, her computer, and her desk area had all been scanned but nothing significant was found. A cold, half-drank cup of herbal tea had been left next to Hadara's computer. Hadara’s DNA was positively identified from the rim of the cup, so it could be confirmed as belong to the victim. She had been the one who drank the tea. The remaining contents of the cup and the cup itself were scanned, demolecularized, and the pattern preserved for later reassembly and analysis at the forensics lab.

The general landscape of the room also yielded little information to Odo. Hadara’s desk chair was found overturned, a datapad had fallen on the floor, but beyond that, her office was spit-spot. There were no signs of a major altercation. The police had scanned the chair and the datapad. The police had no way to be sure if anything was missing, but according to the scanners, no one had touched any of the things in Hadara’s office but Hadara. 

Odo didn’t find anything immediately apparent in the physical evidence that would point him in a specific direction. However, that fact by itself was a clue. According to the evidence, only Hadara and members of her staff had been in her office. Likely, Odo’s instincts were right, that Hadara was murdered by someone local, maybe someone still skulking about the hotel grounds, but that left Odo a lot of suspects. And no clear motive for the murder had yet been established, especially if it was one of the hotel staff. Why would they want to kill their employer, who, by all accounts Odo found in the police interviews, had been well-liked? The interviews of the hotel employees contained nothing but praise for Hadara and expressions of sadness and shock at her death. Given what Hadara’s mother had said about the political problems in the village, it was possible they were dealing with a wolf in sheep’s clothing. Odo might need to do a deep search of the staff’s computer histories and social network accounts to look for any angry politicos masquerading as housekeepers. First, though, Odo would need to dig through Hadara’s computer records, her messages, and her schedule to look for any discernible patterns. Somewhere in the chaos, there might be a lead.

Odo moved on to reviewing more witness statements. Most of them contained no useful information as most of them were taken from witnesses who knew about as much as Odo did, but as he went through the list of names on the audio files the police had collected, Odo remembered one particular person of interest. Until now, he’d almost forgotten Vinna Rem’s presence at the scene. Odo opened the file under Vinna’s name and listened attentively as Vinna gave her account to the police.

It had been Vinna who had discovered the body. The hallway door to the hotel’s administrative offices had been closed by Vinna herself the night before, and she had been the first one to open the door in the morning. She had then found Hadara. By the computer’s estimations, Hadara had been dead for several hours by the time Vinna found her, so her murder occurred shortly after Vinna locked up for the night...Yes, Vinna knew she had locked Hadara in, but Hadara often worked long hours and she had her own codes to get out...No, no one else had the code. Once the outer door to the hallway was sealed for the night, no one else could open it but her or Hadara...No, she had no idea who would want to hurt Hadara. Everyone loved her, it was a great tragedy, and all this business was so bad for the hotel’s image. The timing was terrible, with the grand opening and all...She couldn’t recall exactly what time she’d left last night, but the desk clerk—Maya Galen—might remember...The last time she spoke to Hadara? Oh, that was right before she left. She’d said goodnight to her and told her she would see her in the morning.

Vinna’s dialogue broke off in sobs at that point, and that was the end of the interview. Odo made a sound of frustration and cut the audio. The interviewing officers had given up too soon on their interrogation of the case’s prime witness. He suspected they had the same issue Krenn had. Murder had become a rare crime on Bajor, and emotions were running high. Humanoids didn’t like to confront their own darker feelings, much less anyone else’s.

Odo admonished himself for that thought. It was speicist. It’s not like he did much better. Why else would he have forgotten something as important as Vinna’s presence at the scene if not for his own emotional distractions regarding this case? Odo’s interest in this case was personal, was compromising his emotions, and for anyone without his unique perspective and ability to keep his head, that might have meant disaster. However, Odo could keep his head, he could be objective, even if his emotions were involved, meaning he could always rely on his own judgement, and that was an ability most thinking beings struggled to cultivate regardless of where they hailed from. For Odo, it was a natural gift, and it was also what made him so good at his work. It sure as hell didn’t make his work on this case any easier, though. 

Odo knew it was time to confront what he’d been putting off since he got back to the  _ Rio Grande _ , the task that was the hardest of all the things he had to do on this day. He needed to look at the death of his friend head-on, in detail, without an emotional lense. He needed to review and analyze the holoimages of Hadara Mari’s corpse.

Odo opened the image files and began his review. As Odo did his review, he didn’t dwell too long on the images. He couldn’t. It wasn’t that he was squeamish. Between his life on an occupied Bajor and his life aboard the station, he’d seen plenty of the dark handiwork humanoids visited upon one another. His reticence came from somewhere much deeper. Other than Jadzia, he’d never investigated the death of anyone he called a friend, and Jadzia’s death had required very little investigation. They all knew what happened to her, who had been responsible. Jadzia had time to name her murderer before she died. Odo was able to confirm Jadzia’s allegations, although no one had ever doubted her story. Combing the Bajoran temple for evidence to back up Jadzia’s statements had simply been a formality that was Odo’s duty to complete. For Odo, the process had also been a way to soothe his grief and distance himself from having born witness to Jadzia’s final hours. Murder was an especially unfair way to die, but no matter how death came to a person, there was very little dignity in it. 

In DS9’s infirmary, waiting helplessly with the others for word from Julian, Odo had been plagued by a host of mixed emotions—anger, fear, confusion, sadness—all superimposed over the keen, piercing ache of Jadzia’s loss. His feelings were reflected back at him on the faces of Jadzia’s other friends, his friends, so raw and so familiar, and all seemingly looking to him for some sort of explanation or comfort or assurance. After all, he was the law on DS9, and the law had been violated. He’d had no comfort to offer his friends, though, no explanation. Knowing Jadzia died on his watch and he had no answers as to why continued to haunt him. 

As Odo looked over the photographic evidence of Hadara’s physical death, as he analyzed the images of his murdered friend’s body lying dead and abandoned on a cold stone floor, Odo struggled with that same isolating combination of guilt and grief. Krenn was right. Hadara had suffered, and now, Odo was witness to it, too. Her suffering was in the evidence just as Krenn said. Her face…Odo couldn’t look at her face, not now. He dismissed the images. Krenn had also lied to Hadara’s mother not once, but twice. The scanners had found a cause of death, but not a complete one. Hadara’s cardiovascular system had been disrupted, although the scanners couldn’t say how. There was also no clear manner of death, no wounds or punctures or weapons burns, but what was absolutely clear to Odo based on what the scanners did find and the condition of the body was that Hadara Mari had been poisoned.

The evidence from the bioscans and the signs of the onset of an acute, unexpected illness in the victim’s physical condition supported Odo’s theory. No doubt, Krenn had read the scene the same way, which was what prompted him to declare Hadara’s death suspicious. The police had taken close-ups of Hadara’s salt-stained clothes, her discolored skin. There were also close-ups of the area surrounding her corpse. As she lay dying, fluids had leaked from her body and formed greasy pools on the floor, which was not usual, but the fluid volume was atypically high. Her skin was beaded with a fine, brownish mist of dried blood, like she’d started sweating it out before she died. She’d vomited several times until that, too, turned to blood. The police had photographed all of it.

Odo quickly left off those images—they weren’t helping him anyway without detailed forensics—and found the ones of her hand, her fingernails. Her wrist—the one that had worn the bracelet— was bruised in a half-circle pattern that scanners indicated occurred just before death. The surface of the gray tile under that same bruised hand was scratched. The police had photographed in minute detail the whitish bits of broken nail and crimson streaks of blood caught in the grout.

Odo shut off the viewscreen. He covered his eyes. He’d seen enough. He pushed his emotions aside and let the facts fill the void. The evidence the Bajoran police collected then solidified into a plausible narrative.

Late last night, someone had poisoned Hadara Mari. With what or how or why was not known, but Odo guessed the cup of tea had something to do with it. There were no signs of forced entry, nor was there evidence of a major struggle or blunt force trauma to the body, indicating her death wasn’t caused by violence. No cellular evidence was left by anyone who hadn’t been vetted by the hotel. Hadara’s murderer was someone who had a genetic profile available in the Bajoran database, someone Hadara knew, someone who had walked into Hadara’s office peacefully. Based on the evidence on and around Hadara’s body, Odo figured that after her poisoner left, it took some time for the poison to work, for it to start making Hadara ill. She realized she was going to vomit, she was already in pain. She stood abruptly from her desk, turning her chair over in the process, the pad sliding off her desk and onto to the floor. She stumbled across her office to get to the bathroom or to seek help, but it was too late. The poison was already killing her. Hadara staggered her way to the door, managed to get it open, but fell against it. The door flew wide, hit the wall with a bang. Her wooden bracelet caught on the door handle, was yanked hard across her wrist, and broke as she fell to the floor. She tried to call for help, couldn’t, or wasn’t heard, and futilely clawed at the ancient stone under her fingers as the poison slowly, painfully claimed her life.

And the last person to see Hadara Mari alive, to have been in her office, to bid her goodnight, the person who locked Hadara into what would become a living nightmare was Vinna Rem.


	10. Chapter 10

 

Odo immediately left the  _ Rio Grande _ and went back to the hotel main. As he stepped out of the climate-controlled runabout, the tropical heat washed over him like a crushing wave. The humidity had thickened the air to a cloying, sticky mass and the sea breeze had gone flat. The late afternoon sun glared mercilessly on his head and neck as he crossed the pavement. Odo had the thought that the Maldonian Islands were a nice place to visit, but he couldn't imagine actually living with this heat.

Odo arrived at the the hotel doors and entered, instantly relieved as artificially cooled air surrounded him. He headed up the long hallway, the sconces still sparkling cheerfully with artificial light. It had been just over a day ago that he’d followed Hadara Mari up this same well-lit, climate-controlled hallway, but it felt like a lifetime ago. 

The hallway brought Odo to the lobby. He walked a direct path to the hotel's receiving desk to find a hotel clerk. The runabout computer had no access to the hotel’s location sensors, so it was easier to ask the clerk—a different clerk from the one who’d been harassed that morning—where Vinna Rem was located. The man at the desk informed Odo that Vinna Rem was in her office. Odo asked him to contact Vinna and inform her Odo was on his way.

As Odo crossed the other side of hotel lobby, he noticed the atmosphere of the Latara had returned to business as usual. It was as if nothing had ever happened, that there had been no trouble or police presence. No one entering the hotel without prior knowledge would have any idea that only hours ago, a woman had lost her life just meters from the place where guests were enjoying tropical landscapes, historical grandeur, and high-end cocktails. Odo was almost jealous of the cloud of obliviousness the other guests seemed to live under, but thoughts of Nerys canceled the feeling. Hopefully, Nerys was sitting on a beach somewhere, drinking something icy and alcoholic and enjoying herself, as oblivious to tragic circumstances as any other hotel guest.

Odo headed down the hallway to Vinna’s office. The door was open. Odo paused at the threshold. Vinna was at her desk and on her comm. She wore an earpiece, so the conversation could only be heard one way. Vinna waved at Odo and raised a manicured finger, indicating she needed a second to finish her call. Odo crossed his arms over his chest and waited.

“Yes, yes…Oh, it was just awful, such a tragedy…Yes, she was so young…Thank you so much, and thank your editor for me. The Latara is so new, and this kind of thing could just ruin us…Yes, but listen, darling, I do have to go…Oh, we will, we’ll do lunch next week…Okay, ciao, Jal’ico.”

Vinna signed off the comm and took off the earpiece. She huffed and rolled her eyes. “The press,” she said to Odo. “I’ve been doing damage control all morning. Please, Odo, come in.”

Odo made the short cross to Vinna’s desk. Vinna was wearing a dark blue business suit and her blonde hair was piled on top of her head into an equally business-like style. Her appearance was quite neat and fresh for someone who’d had such a harrowing day. No wrinkles in her clothes, no droop in her shoulders, no tissue or handkerchief in her hand. She hadn’t been grieving, either. No swollen eyes, no signs of redness around her uptilted nose, no runny eye makeup or dark circles. Vinna Rem looked quite attractive this afternoon, actually, which only made Odo’s suspicions grow deeper.   

Odo seated himself in one of the guest chairs Vinna waived at. Vinna started talking before he even sat down.

“I’m so,  _ so _ sorry about all of this, really I am, I can’t believe it. A murder at our hotel, and oh! You knew Hadara personally, didn’t you? Oh, I’m just so frightfully embarrassed by all of this, but then I heard you’ve been assigned to the case now, and you must have questions for me. I did find the body after all, and oh, it was just awful.” She paused and sniffled and lightly dabbed the corner of her eye. “I’m just so sick over all of this. Poor, poor Hadara.”

Odo let silence fill the gap, waiting to see what Vinna did with it. She simpered at him and wiped her eyes again, but for what reason? Odo didn’t see any tears.

“I do have some questions for you, madam,” Odo began, keeping his tone gentle. He decided to take the 'good cop' role with Vinna. “I am sorry, but I have to ask you about some things that might be difficult for you to talk about with your grief so fresh.”

“Thank you for your consideration, Odo, but I know you’re just doing your job.”

“Indeed, madam,” Odo replied. “Still, I do apologize. I would like you to recall the last time you saw Hadara Mari. What she was doing when you saw her last?”

“She was working,” Vinna said. “She had a habit of working late. The poor dear was so dedicated to this hotel project. She put in so much time and work to make this grand opening happen. We all have, really, but not like Hadara. It was unhealthy how much she worked. I told her so many times it wasn’t healthy for a young woman to work so much, especially not one with a child... Anyway, last night, when I was leaving, I saw her light was still on and I stopped to say goodnight. That’s the last time I saw her.”

“Do you know what she was working on?”

“No,” Vinna replied. “She was on her computer and drinking tea, all very regular. Nothing unusual.”

“What about her demeanor?" Odo asked. "Did you notice anything odd about Hadara’s behavior, or did she say anything that would indicate she was under duress?”

“Actually,” Vinna said, her glance narrowing at Odo, “Hadara was a little disturbed last night. Unsettled. Like there was something on her mind. She’d been distracted all evening, since right after she escorted you and Colonel Kira to your room. I just assumed you had words with her or had been displeased with her about something…”

Vinna trailed off and made a leading gesture with a turn of her wrist. Odo didn’t take the bait—he was too sharp for that—but he wasn’t entirely sure why Vinna was laying it out. What was she looking for him to give away? Vinna was either prompting Odo into giving up information from the investigation, or she was trying to turn the tables by making Odo feel guilty by implying that he was responsible for Hadara’s emotional state. Maybe it was both. Odo didn’t like it for either reason, and he decided to lay some bait of his own.

“Now that you mention it,” Odo said, “there was a problem, and we did tell Hadara we were displeased. When you left us so abruptly yesterday, the Colonel and I were a bit taken aback. We expected a better welcome at a hotel of this caliber. You said yourself the Colonel and I are distinguished guests. What was so important that it took you away from your duties to your VIPs?”

Vinna clucked and shook her head ruefully. “Oh my, that,” she said. “I am so,  _ so _ sorry, but it couldn’t be helped. That Pogran Kald was causing trouble again. He argued with one of the maintenance staff when she tried to clean the library and he harassed the girl to the point of tears, poor thing. I begged Hadara so many times to fire Pogran. We’ve had so many complaints from the staff about that man, but Hadara wouldn’t hear of getting rid of him. She said Pogran was the only scholar on Bajor who understood the full history of the monastery and that she needed him. Frankly, I don’t know that he’s worth the trouble, no matter how much of an expert he is, but those decisions belonged to Hadara.” She sighed and fingered the silver beads at her throat. “It was all out of my hands, really.”

Odo recalled his instant dislike of Pogran Kald. That kind of visceral reaction from a first impression was due to Odo's instinctual ability to spot a jackass a kilometer away. It was useful to have that kind of intuition in his line of work, and Odo took assurance from the fact that his instincts were still on point. Only a jackass would harass a maintenance woman to the point of tears. Vinna’s statements seemed plausible enough to Odo and were something he could easily confirm, so they were likely true. However, Vinna's confession about wanting to fire Pogran and Hadara's supposed tolerance for him rang false to Odo, but not because of content. It was the context Vinna was presenting it in that bothered him. 

Odo decided to throw Vinna off and switch gears. “What about the hotel security system?” he asked. “A hotel this size must have computerized surveillance. I was surprised the police hadn’t collected any logs or image files.” 

“We do have a surveillance system," Vinna replied, "but it hasn’t worked correctly since we installed it. One of our biggest obstacles to getting the hotel opened on time was that surveillance system. Thankfully, the door locks are on a separate program or no one would have trusted their stay here. The surveillance system has worked only intermittently, and wouldn’t you know it, the day we needed them the most, neither the sensors or the cameras were in operation.”

“Hmph,” Odo said. “Imagine that. Quite a coincidence.”

Vinna huffed. “Quite an awful one. I sometimes wonder what the Prophets are thinking.”

Interesting, Odo thought. Vinna was either telling the truth and had no guile whatsoever, or everything coming out of her mouth was coated with it. He truly couldn’t tell which it was. If Vinna Rem was lying, if she was attempting to manipulate her interrogation, she was doing a fine job of it. Her words were believable, but her answers were too ready, too thorough, and her body language, facial expression, and tone of voice were absolutely lacking the shock and grief an average person would show under these circumstances. Something was off about Vinna Rem and her spit-spot attractiveness. She knew more than she was saying.

However, these were all instinctual conclusions on Odo’s part. Even if he trusted his instincts, his instincts weren’t evidence. Odo still had no clear motive for this crime. When investigating a murder, determining motive often led to the type of evidence he needed for a conviction, and Odo would find that evidence. Even if Vinna Rem was lying, the reliability of her answers was currently irrelevant. Vinna had inadvertently given Odo another trail to follow in his investigation.

“Well,” Odo said, rising from his seat, “I think that’s all I need for now, madam. Thank you for your time, although you should know, I may ask you for more of it. I may have more questions as the investigation unfolds. These types of cases are very complicated, but I’m sure you understand.”

“Of course," Vinna said, also rising from her seat. “Anything you need of me or my staff, please, just ask.” She wiped the corner of her eye again and sniffled. “We all just loved Hadara. All of us want the person who did this brought to justice.”

Odo dipped his head in acknowledgment, thanked Vinna again, and exited her office. The door snicked shut as soon as he was past the threshold. Odo made the short and direct walk up the hall to Hadara’s office door.  

Hadara’s office was sealed, but his militia codes overrode the police lockout. Before Odo went inside, he took a moment to scan both sides of the office door with his tricorder. He found something the Bajoran police had missed— a recent hand print on the inside of the door at about chest height. It was Hadara’s, and Hadara was about the same height as Odo. Odo held his hand up to match, hovering just over the same spot, trying very hard not think of the hand print’s owner as he evaluated its placement. This handprint of this hand print seemed to confirm his sequence-of-events theory.

The crime scene unit had cleaned the area where Hadara had died of any residual biomatter, but the rest of her office was untouched. Her chair was still overturned, her pad still on the floor. Odo scanned the chair, righted it, and sat down behind Hadara’s desk. He looked around the room, taking it in from Hadara’s view. Except for Hadara’s computer terminal, her desk was blank. Her whole office was blank. No pictures of Duhr or her parents, no decorations, no art on the walls. It was very impersonal, her office space, and it felt flat, which was so different from her home. Obviously, Hadara's work persona was very much separated from her home one.

Odo activated Hadara’s computer and overrode the password protection. Through the hotel computer interface, he could access some of the hotel’s system records. A quick search revealed that Hadara had ordered her deka tea from the lobby bar. The voice command logs showed she had ordered it herself from the replicator. Hadara ordered her tea well before Vinna would have paid her a visit, but that didn’t mean it hadn’t been spiked after Hadara brought it back to her office.

Hotel system records also confirmed the rest of Vinna’s story. The hotel internal sensors went down the day of Hadara’s murder but the logs from the door lock program were complete. The time stamps showed Vinna was the last one out of the administrative offices and the first one in that morning, just as she’d stated. No one had come or gone in between. Hotel repair records also showed that the surveillance system had been reported by Vinna Rem for maintenance two days ago, and several more times over the last few weeks, corroborating Vinna's claim the system was faulty. Even now, techs were on site trying to fix it. The techs had restored the hotel sensors, but the cameras were still down. Odo found nothing inexplicable, no hard proof of anything, but the timing of this systems failure was a little too coincidental to be incidental. 

Hadara’s communications network was next on Odo’s list. He opened her communications program. She had several unopened text messages, all dated today, and several unopened vid messages. Word of her death hadn’t got out to everyone. Odo called up the message archives. At this early juncture, Odo was less interested in what was said in Hadara’s communications and more interested in who had sent them. Judging by the vastness of the archives, Hadara must have spent half her life in front of a computer fielding messages. No wonder she often worked late.

Odo couldn’t override the access to any of Hadara’s official government communications from the First Minister’s office as his clearance wasn’t high enough. A simple request to militia command would fix that, but Odo didn’t think he’d find his answers there, so he decided to hold off. He’d save militia involvement until he needed it. He decided to focus on Hadara’s local communications from the hotel and from the village instead.

Odo spent the next couple of hours scanning through subspace messages, local messages, text, vocal, and image messages, all sorts of communications until even his careful eyes grew tired. However, persistence paid off. In the hotel’s internal communications records, Odo finally found the clue in the communications patterns he’d been looking for.

Messages from a specific room number from the hotel’s second residential tower had popped up several times over the last few weeks. Odo isolated the sending address in a search and resorted the results by date. The first message sent to Hadara from that room’s address occurred on the hotel’s grand opening date, and the last was last night at about seven. Repeated communications originating from the same room indicated an inside source on the hotel staff had been using the comm in that room, or a guest of the hotel had sent them. According to the hotel reservations system, the room was currently occupied, had been since the grand opening, and was unavailable for booking for the next several weeks. Odo decided to test the long-term guest theory first.  

Odo opened a few of the mystery messages. They were unsigned and vague, just times and locations, some on the hotel grounds. Others sounded like they could be locations in the village. Hadara had read all of these messages but hadn’t replied to a single one. Hadara was meeting someone then, someone whose identity was obviously was a secret. Odo’s suspicions of Vinna took a back seat. Vinna Rem was lying about something, but maybe she wasn’t a killer. Maybe the killer was the mystery guest in room 2814.

For all the information Odo could access through this one terminal, he still couldn’t get the information he needed most. Odo’s militia clearance wouldn’t allow him to access the hotel’s guest records database due to Bajor's privacy laws. It was times like this he preferred Federation transparency. It was more efficient. He had the skills to hack the database, but to save time, he decided to go the more traditional route and just ask someone. 

Odo signed out of Hadara’s terminal, resealed Hadara’s office, and headed down the office hallway back to the hotel’s main desk. On the way, he passed Vinna’s office door again. It was still closed, but he noticed there was no light under the door frame. Vinna must have headed out somewhere. 

Odo went straight to the hotel desk clerk and, without any pretense, asked for the name of the guest in room 2814. The clerk, equally pretense-free, asked for Odo’s security clearance, which Odo provided. The clerk waited for Odo’s clearance to check and reviewed it. When he was satisfied, the clerk gave Odo a servant’s smile and informed him that the name of the guest in room 2814 was Mr. Joshua Carter.

Joshua Carter. That sounded like an Earth name to Odo. He asked the clerk if Mr. Carter had a vetted profile. He did not. Mr. Carter had provided a thumb scan and proper identification at check-in. At Odo’s request, the clerk pulled Carter’s identification from the computer files and showed it to him. It was a standard intergalactic passport. Place of origin was Jolani V. Odo asked for a copy of the passport and the clerk sent it to Odo's tricorder. Odo then asked the clerk if he could locate Joshua Carter. The clerk cheerfully did so via the recently-repaired hotel sensor grid. He informed Odo that Mr. Carter was at the patio bar, located just beyond the double doors and to Odo’s right. Odo thanked the clerk for his cooperation and headed the direction the clerk pointed him in.

The patio bar was right where the clerk said it would be, outside the doors he'd pointed at and to the right. The main bar was attached to the tower and the seating area was extended under a shaded awning. A bored-looking bartender was behind the high counter, watching a  _ kel-ro _ match on a viewscreen hung against a back wall. Independent cooling units kept the late-day heat from ruining the patrons’ comfort. A shared patio space with umbrellaed tables connected the bar from one residential tower to the next. On the opposite side of the patio, under the second residential tower, the shaded bar area was repeated, right down to the bartender watching sports. 

A double bar was a large entertainment space, but few patrons were in the area. After years of spying on Quark’s, Odo knew the bar was a little slow for a hotel this size. He wondered how much business the hotel had lost because of the murder.

Regardless of the drop in attendance, the only hotel guest Odo needed to worry about was still present. Under the shaded part of the bar, sitting at the counter and nursing a drink in a short, heavy-bottomed glass was the man Odo was looking for. He recognized him from the passport photo. Odo approached, but Carter didn’t notice him. He was hunched over his drink, staring at the viewscreen as intently as the bartender, but Odo didn’t think Carter had any idea what the viewscreen was playing. He had a lost look about him. 

Odo slid up to the bar next to Carter and leaned his elbow on the bar top. Carter turned slightly and gave Odo a sidelong glance, long enough for Odo to confirm he had the right man from the photo on his tricorder. Carter turned disinterestedly back to the viewscreen.

Odo took a moment to examine Carter more closely. Carter was casually but expensively dressed. His clothing was too well tailored to be replicated, indicating he would be the sort of man who could afford to spend weeks at a luxury hotel. His passport photo also didn’t do him justice. He appeared to be an Earth man, in his late twenties to early thirties, with sun-burnished skin, close-cropped medium brown hair, and hazel eyes. His features were perfectly symmetrical, perfectly balanced, and classically masculine. From his seated height, Odo guessed Carter would be taller than himself by several centimeters. He was also much heavier than Odo. He was a big man, broad-shouldered and muscular, but not bulky, suggesting he cultivated an athletic physique over an aesthetic one. Overall, Joshua Carter appeared to be a textbook example of a healthy Terran male entering his early prime.

“Joshua Carter?” Odo asked.

Carter didn't look away from the viewscreen. “Who is asking?”

“Security Chief Odo, Deep Space 9. I’m consulting with the Bajoran police on the Hadara case.”

Carter picked up his drink and took a slow sip. “I am Joshua Carter,” he said, "and I am surprised it took the police this long to ask.”

“You know why I’m looking for you, then.”

“Well, you did say you were working the case. I assume you searched Hadara’s communications, found the ones transmitted from my room, and then tracked me down. I also assume you did these things because you think I killed her.”

“Did you?” Odo asked.

Carter finally turned to face Odo fully. His eyes were bloodshot, red-rimmed. He had been drinking heavily, it seemed, but his voice was steady when he answered. 

“No,” Carter replied. “I did not kill her.”

Carter’s response seemed sincere, but there was something about Carter that was raising red flags for Odo. Something wasn’t right about this man. There was something in the way Carter carried himself, in the way he spoke, and Odo didn’t think it was just the booze. Carter’s rhythm of speech wasn’t quite right for a Terran. His words were overly pronounced and slowly spoken, and there was a slight lag in the grammar correction function of Odo’s universal translator. Odo form his UT implant from his own substance along with the rest of his uniform. After years of practice, he had the working parts down perfectly, so he didn't think the lag was from the UT. He’d been talking to Bajorans all day, so maybe his ear was off. 

Odo checked his physical status though his sensory matrix. His UT and his ears were as soundly formed as they ever were. What was bothering him about Carter, then?

“How did you know Hadara Mari?” Odo asked.

“Through business,” Carter replied.

“What business?”

“I am one of the hotel’s primary investing partners.”

“And also one of its best customers. You’ve been checked in as a guest of the Latara for several weeks.”

Carter shrugged. “I like the heat.”

“You’re from Earth, yes?”

“No,” Carter replied.

“But you are Terran?”

“I am as you see me.”

“You said you were an investor. I thought the people of Earth had foregone the acquisition of wealth in favor of their utopian ideal.”

“They have,” Carter replied. “My family is not of Earth. We are in the shipping business, and we are for-profit, I assure you. As a general rule, the independent Terran colonies do not hold with the Federation’s selfless ideals.”

Still that bothersome rhythm, that odd lag in the translator. It was subtle but it was there. Odo had listened to the computer’s version of translated Earth languages for years on DS9, otherwise he might never have noticed the difference. He shut off the grammar correction circuit of his UT and listened to Carter’s words directly translated.

“How old are you, Mr. Carter?”

“This man thirty-two summers has,” Carter replied.

Odo was no linguist, but that reply was all wrong for modern Earth speaker. He’d need the  _ Rio Grande _ to tell him what language he’d actually heard. And he needed more of it. Odo resumed the grammar function of the UT so the conversation was understandable, but had his combadge start recording. Odo knew it was a low thing to record a conversation without permission, and the recording wouldn’t be admissible in court, but that didn’t matter. Admissible evidence wasn’t what Odo was after right now.

“What was the purpose of your meetings with Hadara Mari?” Odo asked.

“As I said, we had business. My investment in this property is substantial and I insisted on personally overseeing what was done with it.”

“I see,” Odo said. “And do you regularly conduct business meetings at odd hours in small villages on remote tropical islands?”

Carter finished off his drink and set the empty glass on the bar with a thud. “I won't answer questions about my business without my advocate present.”

“Carter, at some point, you will answer me, advocate or no. You can do it now, here, or you can do it when I charge you with Hadara’s murder and drag you to a holding cell.”

Carter stood up from the bar stool and drew himself to his full height. He leaned closer to Odo, looming over him and scowling down at him. Carter was indeed much taller than Odo, bigger, an intimidating specimen, but a Changeling wasn’t easily intimidated. Odo maintained his casual lean on the bar and returned Carter's threatening glare with an ice-cold stare.

“Bring your charges, then” Carter said through gritted teeth. “You will be wasting your own time, police man. I did not kill Hadara Mari.”

Carter glared at Odo for a few more seconds, then turned away. Odo let him go. He had what he needed from Carter for now, or at least he was about to have it, and unlike the recording, the evidence he intended to collect would be admissible in court. He watched as Carter rapidly crossed the patio to the second tower and went inside.

Behind Odo, the bartender appeared and picked up Carter’s empty glass. Odo laid a hand on the bartender’s arm to halt him.

“Wait,” Odo said. “A moment.”

Odo took his tricorder off his belt and scanned the glass. He saved the scan. He looked up at the puzzled bartender.

“Thank you,” Odo said and left the bar.


	11. Chapter 11

 

From the patio bar, Odo again headed for the _ Rio Grande. _ As Odo cut through the hotel lobby to get to the landing pad, it occurred to him that the ship was being put to use far more than Nerys had ever intended. If he was a believer in fate, he might have traced a prescient path from the neglect of his flight hours to Nerys's decision to requisition the runabout, to Hadara's death, and back to that very moment. He might deemed it all an example of divine intervention. But Odo wasn't a believer. He did, however, find gratitude for the occasional beneficial coincidence the universe threw his way. Considering how things at the Latara had played out, he counted himself damned lucky he just happened to have access to a Starfleet runabout and all its resourcefulness. 

Odo finished his cross of the lobby and took the long hallway to the landing pad. He passed through the automatic doors and out. The day had given way to early evening, the light faded yellow and cut by shadow as it stretched over the pavement. Time had slipped away from him while he was digging through Hadara's computer. He jogged across the landing pad and boarded the runabout, prepared to make the most of the time he had left. 

Once on board the runabout, Odo got straight to work. He downloaded his new tricorder scans from Hadara’s office and attached the information to the police case file. Odo also asked the computer run an analysis of the two DNA scans he’d made—the one of Duhr and the one from Carter’s glass. He then downloaded his conversation with Carter from his combadge and asked the computer to run a language analysis. 

The DNA reports would take some time to generate, but the language report came back immediately. Carter spoke English, a language that originated in earth’s European region. Odo asked for a deeper analysis of the syntax and grammar. The computer couldn’t find anything out of the ordinary except that Carter’s speech patterns indicated Carter was a non-native speaker of the language he was using. 

Odo felt a pulse of excitement over the fact that he was right, there was something unusual about Carter’s speech, but he quickly quelled it. Humanoid language was complicated because it was inconsistent. Any dialectic or idiomatic idiosyncrasies could easily be explained by factors such as upbringing, education, or even personal style. Geographic location—just a difference of cities—could greatly affect an individual’s use of language. Odo didn’t know much about Earth languages, but he knew Earth had a lot of them. Carter had claimed he was from a non-aligned colony. That fact alone could explain everything.

Odo asked the computer to conduct a full analysis of his conversation with Carter and cross-reference until it identified Carter’s native language. The runabout’s computer library was too small to run a full language search, so Odo connected it to DS9’s computer. Like the DNA analyses, the language analysis would take some time  to come back to him. 

As Odo waited for his three analyses, he decided he’d fill the time by re-reviewing the Bajoran case file. He began by revisiting the witness statements from the hotel employees. Now that he knew more about the professional tension between Hadara, Vinna, and Pogran, the context of the testimony of the other hotel employees may have changed. He also wanted to know if the police had interviewed the hotel clerk Vinna mentioned in her interview and confirmed the times she stated she came and went from the hotel last night. He called up the files he wanted and asked for text versions of the witness statements this time instead of audio files. 

As soon as Odo started reading the first witness statement, a transmission from Krenn came through on the runabout’s com. Odo took it through the viewscreen.

“That was a waste,” Krenn began. “I didn’t get anything out of Hadara’s coworkers except a lot of tears and a lot of praise for her work. Apparently, she was a wiz at what she did, especially for someone so new to her job. No one in Dahkur has any idea why anyone would want to kill her, and no one strikes me as an obvious psychopath. They’re all pretty normal folk. I’m transmitting the file download now so you can look through the statements. Her coworkers also see her death as a major loss to the Bajoran cause. Her boss, one Sarish Rez, called her a natural diplomat and said she’d had a bright future with his office.”

In the back of Odo’s mind, Odo had wondered at that, at how someone with a dark past like Hadara’s had found the composure to be in public relations in the first place. Then, he remembered her composure on Terok Nor after her attack, how even in her pain and terror she had acted with discretion and intelligence. Diplomat, indeed, in how she’d dealt with the hardship of being forced to leave her family as a young woman, with how smoothly she’d handled her encounter with Odo when they’d first met, and even in her decision to stay with Marcine. It was sometimes strange the way one’s natural gifts manifested.

“I didn’t think you’d find much in Dahkur,” Odo replied. “However, I have discovered quite a bit right here at the hotel.”

Odo proceeded to fill Krenn in on his conversation with Vinna as well as what he'd found in Hadara's communications. He also shared his discovery of Carter, though he left out the bit about analyzing Carter's speech patterns and DNA. At the moment, Odo had only half-formed hunches about Carter, not facts, and Odo wasn’t one to share anything he hadn’t confirmed. Krenn was still duly impressed with what Odo had found so far.

“Wow,” Krenn said. “You don’t waste any time, do you?”

“I haven’t survived this long by sitting idle.”

“Can I help with anything you’re working on?”

“No,” Odo replied. “Mostly, I’m reviewing the evidence from the case file as there’s not much else I can do without a cause of death.”

“Which means we do have to sit idle until we meet with the medical examiner,” Krenn said. “The ME contacted me while I was in Dahkur. He said he wants to see me tomorrow morning. I thought you'd like to tag along.”

“I would,” Odo replied.

“Then we’ll head out together first thing tomorrow. But as for today, I think I’m done. Since my consultant is so competent, I can actually make it home to see my son before his bedtime.” Krenn’s smile widened. “A guy could get used to all this help.”

Inspector Krenn was a family man, then. Why did that surprise Odo?

“I’ll meet you on the landing pad tomorrow morning?” Odo asked.

“Sure,” Krenn replied. “The ME’s office is in Jamalo City. You can fly us there.”

“We could just use the hotel’s transporter. Or the ship’s.”

Krenn grinned even wider. “But then I’d miss my chance to fly around in a Starfleet runabout.”

Odo couldn’t help but smile back, though he only allowed it to show half-way. “I’ll meet you by the ship, then,” Odo replied. He started to sign off the comm. Krenn stopped him.

“Oh, and one other thing, Odo. Tomorrow, on the way to Jamalo, I’m going to ask you to let me in on what it was you didn’t tell me at the Hadaras’ house. About how you know our victim. I think that’s fair enough since this is still supposed to be my investigation.”

“You’re the boss,” Odo replied.

“Yeah, don’t remind me…Goodnight, Odo.”

Odo returned Krenn’s goodnight and signed off the comm panel. His reflection was cast back at him from the darkened viewscreen and he lost himself examining the warped lines of his own face. 

Children, Odo thought. Family. Someone to go home to. All things difficult for a law enforcement officer to have in his life, and something Odo never thought he wanted, but with Nerys as his partner, things had changed. Nerys had said she wanted a child someday. Odo couldn’t help her make one, but there were other ways they could become a family. The few times Nerys had raised the subject, though, Odo had asked himself if he truly felt the same way she did. Did he actually want a family or was he just considering it to make Nerys happy? Right now, he wasn’t sure, and he was also getting ahead of himself. Before they thought of bringing someone else into their lives, he should probably get off his duff and ask Nerys to—

The computer chirped, bringing Odo back to the present. The two DNA analyses were complete. Odo asked for a text report and read it through. Hadara Duhr was exactly who Odo thought he was—a half-Cardassian, half-Bajoran child, seven to eight years old. Hadara was his natural mother, and he was fathered by an unidentified Cardassian male. Identification of the male required access to the Cardassian central archives, which a Starfleet computer did not have. 

Odo moved on to Carter’s DNA analysis. Joshua Carter registered as who he claimed to be—a Terran male of exo-planetary origins. However, there was a sequence in Carter’s DNA analysis the computer had flagged. It was marked ‘unreadable.’

_ Since when?  _ “Computer,” Odo called. “Identify error with DNA section 72163.”

_ “Section 72163 cannot be analyzed. Section 72163 is artificial.” _

Artificial? Now what? “Computer, explain.”

_ "DNA section 72163 is the result of genetic modification and resequencing.” _

“Can you extrapolate the original DNA sequence and ancestral identity?”

" _ Negative.” _

“Can you identify the method of genetic modification and where it was done?”

_ "Surgical and therapeutic modification were completed with methods commonly used on Ferenginar.” _

“Which city, and by whom?”

The computer paused, working. “ _ Unknown. Ferengi genetic modification records are sealed by order of the Grand Negus.” _

Of course, they were. And Odo had no simple way to get them unsealed.  _ Dammit. _

In the illustrious quest for profit, much of morality went to the wayside on Ferenginar. Without the moral scruples most of the developed worlds cultivated, the Ferengi did a fair trade in what would be considered illegal activity elsewhere, so they rarely cooperated with outside law enforcement. Thus, they did a booming trade in practices other advanced societies had rejected—recreational drug manufacturing and sales, arms dealing, gambling, prostitution, and, of course, genetic resequencing. The Ferengi stopped short of full-out eugenics, but not by much. Ferenginar also boasted some of the best plastic surgeons in the sector and criminals who could counterfeit new identification to go with the new faces, right down to the thumb scan. Counterfeiting identification was illegal even by Ferengi standards, but Ferengi jurisprudence was managed through bribes, not rule of law. Odo wondered how Ferengi society didn’t collapse under the weight of its own corruption, but somehow, it all worked for them. It had also worked for Joshua Carter, or whoever he was. Obviously, that identity had been bought, but before Odo could get a warrant to arrest Carter, he had to prove it.

The computer chirped at Odo yet again. Carter’s language analysis was ready. Odo asked the computer to read it.

_ "Three possible first languages identified: Rigellian, Bularian, and Cardassian.” _

Cardassian? Carter was possibly a native speaker of Cardassian? Given what he’d just found out about Carter’s falsified DNA and this bit of information, a very sinister game seemed afoot. Carter had gone to a lot of trouble in the form of a full genetic resequencing to hide his born identity, but what was his born identity? Could Carter be a Cardassian masquerading as a Terran? What would a genetically-resequenced Cardassian want with the Latara or with Hadara Mari? And why would a Cardassian citizen want to become a Terran at all? 

Odo’s mind started reeling with answers to his own questions, with possibilities, with connections, but he was careful not to let himself run off with them. He needed to be rational, to try to fit what facts he had together logically and not let his thoughts go off on accusatory tangents, but still...If Carter was born Cardassian and was hiding that fact, and was connected to Hadara Mari now, there almost certainly had to be a connection to Hadara’s past on Terok Nor. He briefly considered that Carter might actually be Marcine, but quickly dismissed the idea. Odo had close personal contact with Marcine when he’d threatened him. He had seen him vulnerable and afraid. Genetic modification could alter appearances and disguise someone from computer scans, but the modifications couldn’t change someone’s essence. Surgery didn’t change a person’s  _ pagh _ . Carter wasn’t Marcine because Marcine was a narcissistic coward. He would never have the guts or the fortitude to follow through on something so extreme as a full genetic resequencing. 

Odo knew by factual evidence Marcine wasn’t Hadara’s rapist. A second assailant was involved in Hadara’s case. Could Carter be the man who raped Hadara? Did that make Carter a danger to Duhr and Nemina? And if Carter was Hadara’s rapist, why would he go to so much trouble and subterfuge to chase down his victim and her family all these years later? Why was it worth such risk to the self and such expense?

Odo didn’t have enough information to answer any of these questions, and he needed to get that missing information fast before anyone else ended up dead. Getting information through official channels would take months and Odo didn’t have months. It was time to for Odo to pull some tricks of his own.

“Computer,” Odo called, “establish a secure subspace link with Deep Space Nine. Connect to the comm panel in Quark’s Bar.”

Odo drummed his fingers on the runabout’s control panel as he waited. The computer connected, and after a suspiciously too-long pause, Odo’s communication was answered. The snaggle-toothed, lumpy-headed, bald visage of Quark filled Odo’s viewscreen.

“I told you, you would miss me, Odo,” Quark said. “Does Colonel Kira know you’re sending me encoded transmissions? I wouldn’t want her to get jealous.”

“Shut up, Quark, and listen. I need your help.”

“The bar’s packed. Make it quick.”

“I need to get ahold of medical records from Ferenginar. Sealed records. Do you know anyone we can buy them from?”

“Of course,” Quark said. “But sealed medical records are going to cost you.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Odo said. “I need this information, and it’s vital I get it quickly."

“Just whose records are you looking for?”

“I’m sending you the file now.”

Odo uploaded the DNA scan of Carter and the copy of Carter's passport he’d gotten from the hotel desk clerk. When Quark confirmed he had the file, Odo continued.

“I need to know who that really is, and I need his original genetic profile. I need this as soon as you can possibly get it. Lives are on the line.”

Quark balked not at all at Odo’s urgency. “And how will you be paying today, sir?”

“See Deputy Ridia. He’ll get you whatever you need out of the department’s ‘bribe Quark’ fund.”

“You have a fund devoted to paying me off? I’m honored.”

“Don’t be,” Odo said. “At best, you are a necessary evil, Quark. I highly anticipate the day the necessary part wears off.”

“Careful, Odo, all this flattery will go to my head.”

“Remember, I said get this done fast." Odo leaned closer to the screen and glowered at Quark through subspace. "I mean that, Quark!”

Odo cut off his transmission before Quark could reply. He asked the computer to start another one. Odo needed another piece of the puzzle to move this case forward. That piece was in his quarters on DS9, and Odo knew just the man to get it for him. He asked for a secure transmission to DS9’s habitat ring. When it was answered, Odo again connected it to the viewscreen.

“Odo,” Elim Garak greeted. Garak’s eyes strayed from Odo’s face and downward. His mouth drew down disapprovingly. “And in uniform, no less. Aren’t you supposed to be enjoying a destination vacation with a certain fiery Bajoran? You know, I do believe Doctor Bashir has contact with a support group for workaholics. They may be of some help to you.”

“Cut the crap, Garak,” Odo said. “I’m on duty. There’s been a murder, and I need your help.”

“I see,” Garak replied. “Then, how may I help you, Odo?”

“First, I need you to break into my quarters.”

"Break in? Why not just give me your door code?”

“Do I really need to answer that?”

“No,” Garak replied with a small smile. “Normally, I would never engage in an activity as basic as breaking and entering, but since we’re talking about your quarters, I’ll make an exception. What would you like me to steal from you, Odo?”

“In the bedroom, in the closet on the top shelf, there is a Cardassian hand scanner. I would like you to retrieve it, recharge it, and send its contents to the  _ Rio Grande’s _ computer.”

“And why not assign this task to one of your deputies?"

"Because the information on the hand scanner is from an old case, and the unit has been powered down for some time. The files may be damaged, and they’re certainly delicate. They're my only copy. My deputies are well trained, but I can’t afford any mistakes. I’m asking you, Garak, because you won’t make any.”

“True,” Garak agreed. “And the murder victim? Does she have anything to do with this old case?”

"She does,” Odo replied, “as may her killer, which leads me to the main reason I contacted you.”

“Which is?”

“I know your Cardassian contacts are even more limited than mine are these days, but I do need to ask a favor. I need to know the whereabouts of one Galbec Marcine. He was a glin stationed on Terok Nor shortly before the withdrawal.”

“You’re in luck, Odo. You’ve found the found the correct Cardassian contact already. It so happens I know the whereabouts of Galbec Marcine.”

Finally, a solid break. “And?” Odo prompted. “Where is he?”

“In a tomb,” Garak replied. “You’ll find his earthly remains inside his family mausoleum in Harkin City. Galbec Marcine died five years ago of a self-inflicted drug overdose. He was buried quietly and without ceremony. The scandal rocked Cardassian high society for months.”

One loose end was now officially stricken from Odo’s list. “Thank you for the information,” Odo said, “but I need more. On the hand scanner is a DNA analysis from an unidentified assailant. Whoever he is, he’s non-military. I need this man identified. Since your people have declared war on most of the quadrant, I no longer have access to the Cardassian central archives. I was hoping you knew a way I could change that.”

“I might,” Garak said. “And let us not forget, Odo, your people are also mongers of this war.”

“I haven’t forgotten, Garak.”

“And before I do anything for you, especially the burglary you requested, I would appreciate a full answer to my original question. Why not ask one of your deputies to let me into your quarters instead of asking me to commit a crime? Wouldn’t it be simpler?”

“Probably,” Odo said. “However, I thought for all your trouble you might enjoy a bit of divertissement. My door locks and security system are non-standard. I’ve customized them with some Dominion encryption methods I picked up along the way, quite difficult to break. And if you let Worf catch you breaking into my quarters, I’m not vouching for you.”

Garak’s scale-rimmed mouth twisted into one-sided grin. “You do have a unique way of asking for a favor, Odo. I will contact you as soon as the deed is done and I have the information you need.”

“Thank you, Garak,” Odo said. “I appreciate your help.” 

Odo started to sign off, but Garak halted him.

“Odo?”

“Yes?”

“You aren’t relinquishing time with your beloved to call in favors from your friendly neighborhood tailor idly. You knew the murder victim personally, didn’t you?”

“Yes,” Odo said. “I did.”

"Then, may I say, I am sorry for your loss.”

Odo thanked Garak for his condolences. Garak signed off. The viewscreen went dark.

His loss, Garak had said. Did he have any right to claim Hadara Mari's death as his loss? Was her loss his fault? He kept calling Hadara a friend, but how much of a friend could he have been to her if he hadn’t remembered her for eight years? If he hadn’t sought her out after the Occupation ended? He hadn’t even known Hadara was a mother until this morning. Part of Odo felt he had no right to call her a friend, especially since he'd let her rapist run free all these years. On Terok Nor, he’d been too blinded by his personal vendetta with Marcine and his fear of discovery to do what a proper investigator should have done. If Odo had been more patient, Odo could have gotten the second assailant’s identity from Marcine and taken care of this whole mess before it started. And then, to make matters worse, he still hadn't finished the investigation when he had the opportunity. Odo had never determined who Hadara's second assailant was because, at the time, he had been afraid to ask for the resources he needed. To ask would have drawn attention to the fact that he’d aided and abetted the escape of a Bajoran from Terok Nor, and Odo wasn’t the only person who would’ve been implicated in the crime. Parnok would’ve been implicated as an accessory, and if the Cardassians were in the mood, Quark and M’Pella might have been arrested as well. However, those concerns hadn’t been an issue for years. After the Occupation was over, Odo had been granted the resources and the authority he needed to follow through on the case, but Hadara’s case was so far out of his mind by then, he’d never used them. Current politics had caused Odo to lose his connections to Cardassia yet again and Odo felt more guilty than ever. So much of this could have been prevented if he’d followed through the first time around.

Odo shook off his haze and halted his line of thought. He realized he was chasing his own tail. No matter how guilty he felt, no matter the mistakes he’d made in the past, he had a job to do in the here and now. He had the opportunity to reconcile all of his uncertainties, to catch a killer and bring him to justice, and set the record on the past straight, for once and for all. He owed all the people he’d tried to protect in this situation that much, most especially Hadara Mari.

With a renewed sense of purpose, Odo reached for the control panel to reopen Hadara’s case file. He decided to begin reading through the information Krenn had collected from Dahkur. As soon as he touched the first subfile icon, his vision blurred. 

_ Dammit. _

Odo covered his eyes and heaved a frustrated sigh. Regeneration was near. Unlike a humanoid, his rest cycle couldn’t be delayed though chemicals or other interference, and it frustrated him. He was so close to some major truths, knowledge that had been denied him for years, and he would have worked through the night to get to it, but revelation would have to wait. No matter how much he’d like to stay on the runabout and keep working, it simply wasn’t physically possible.

Odo checked the time. One advantage of calling it a day became apparent. Nerys should still be awake. If Odo stopped working now and headed back to the hotel room, he might have enough time to catch up with her.

Odo secured the Rio Grande for the night and opened the runabout door. It was full dark. He stepped out into it. Blue-tinted artificial light guided his way as he crossed the pavement to the hotel entrance. The doors slid open and he quickly made his way across the now familiar path through the hotel lobby. He boarded the glass lift. The lift carried him upward to the eighth floor. Odo stepped off the lift and made the short walk around the curved walkway to his room.

At his room door, Odo waved his hand across the security sensor. A soft click sounded as the lock released. He pushed the door open. The room was quiet, dim but not dark. Odo stepped inside and  closed the door. He softly called Nerys’s name. She didn’t answer. He looked to his right and checked to see if the bathroom light was on. It wasn’t. Neyrs wasn’t in there, either. He took measured, quiet steps as he walked further into the room to investigate.

On the breakfast table were several shopping bags. Kicked under a chair were Nerys’s sandals. Her toeprints were lined in dust on the leather soles. She must have visited the village, toured, shopped. A child’s toy peeked out from the top of one of the bags—a gift for Kirayoshi, no doubt. Knowing Nerys, most of the contents of her shopping bags would be gifts for other people. 

Odo looked away from the shopping bags and to the bed. Nerys wasn’t there. The bed was untouched and perfectly made just as housekeeping had left it. He turned to the living area, but still didn’t see Nerys. He walked soundlessly across the tiled floor and peered over the back of the sofa. Tension Odo didn’t know he was holding drained out of him in a relieved rush. 

On the sofa, in her nightshirt, covered by a red blanket Odo didn’t recognize, was Nerys. She was sound asleep. Her nose and cheeks were slightly sunburnt, her lips slightly parted. A datapad was on the floor just beyond her outstretched hand. Odo picked it up and put it on the coffee table. While he was at it, he picked up the empty dinner plates and the wine glass she’d left on the table and walked it all to the replicator. As he set Nery’s dishes on the tray to send them away, Odo was gratified to know she’d had her favorite dessert—chocolate cake. He could tell by the smudge of dark brown frosting on one of the plates.

Once the dishes were recycled, Odo returned to Nerys. He leaned his hip on the back of the sofa and watched over her for a bit. Garak had used the right word for Nerys—fiery—and Prophets knew, Odo loved the burn, but in sleep, she was so tranquil. He was sorry he’d missed seeing her before she fell asleep and even more sorry he’d missed spending the day with her. He would have enjoyed watching her take delight in choosing gifts for her friends, enjoyed walking with her in the sunshine on the dusty streets of the village. He would have enjoyed simply being near her, as he always did. But he’d missed his chance. With a sharp pang of regret, of longing, he turned away from Nerys and left her to rest.

Odo was exhausted, but he had some time left before his regeneration cycle started in full, so he headed out to the terrace. The curved window whispered away and let him through. The sky above the terraced balcony was a calming midnight blue and the distant thrum of the rolling ocean was a soothing song. The moon of Durna was low, three-quarters full, and its light gleamed pearly white off the rippling surface of the water. Odo sat down on a lounge chair and looked skyward, to the points of light far above him. He tried to use those points of light orient himself the old-fashioned way but he couldn’t. He didn’t know the constellations here.

A small sound made Odo look behind him. Nerys was walking through the false window. She was swathed in her red blanket.

“Hey,” she greeted. “When did you get in?”

“Just a few minutes ago,” he replied.

Nerys pulled the blanket tighter around her shoulders and padded on bare feet across the terrace. Odo made room for her on his chair. She sat between his legs, rested her back against his chest, and snuggled in. Odo embraced her, blanket and all.

“Where’d you get this?” he asked, fingering the red weave of the fabric. “I like the texture. It’s very soft.”

“It’s made of fibers from the _ rek _ tree,” she replied. “Grows all over the islands. A couple of kids had a stand on the roadside between here and the village and were selling these. I know I don’t need another blanket, I have plenty, but they clearly needed the money. So, now I have another blanket.” 

Odo hid a knowing smile in Kira’s hair and kissed the top of her head. They asked one another some other minor questions about their mutual days, listened as the other replied, but neither of them had much enthusiasm for conversation. Their talk faded as they admired the stars together and listened to the distant music of the night sea. 

Odo closed his eyes and enjoyed the softness of the balmy breeze on his face, so different from the cloying, damp heat of the day. He kept his eyes closed, enjoying the cool caress as it crossed his skin. He listened as Kira’s breathing deepened, felt her weight grow slack. She’d drifted off again. 

Carefully, Odo worked his body out from under Kira’s and stood up from the chair. He turned back to pick her up. He lifted her up from the chair and carried her across the terrace and back into their room. He continued across the room to the to the bed. He set her down gently atop the plush bedding and tucked her in with her new red blanket. Through the whole process, she’d barely stirred, but as he manipulated the blanket around her, she pulled herself from sleep just enough to smile the smallest smile at him. To touch his cheek. He pressed his lips to her brow and whispered a soft, “Goodnight, Nerys.”

Odo then turned to his bucket. With a grateful release of form, he let his solid self go, and left yet another long, hard day in the solid world behind him. 


	12. Chapter 12

 

The next morning, Odo woke unhappily. He was too hot. A direct shaft of morning sunlight had beamed straight onto his liquid surface. He shifted himself in his bucket, moving his substance away from that cruel little shaft of light. He bubbled grumpily for a few moments to cool himself off. He also realized that if the sun was that high and that hot already, then he’d regenerated longer than usual. He must have been even more tired than he thought. He didn’t have much time before he had to meet Krenn. He needed to get moving or he’d be late.

Odo quickly poured himself out of his bucket, took humanoid form, and looked to the bed. It was empty. Nerys was up before him, then, which meant he was really late. He paused, listened, and heard the hum of the sonic shower. He checked the time and was pleased to discover he wasn’t as late as he thought. In fact, he had just enough time to say good morning to Nerys before he left. 

Odo moved away from the bed and walked to the hotel room’s living area. He chose one of the room’s overstuffed armchairs and sat down. He gazed out the terrace window and watched the sea birds make lazy early-morning patrols of the skies as he waited for Nerys to finish her shower.

Nerys appeared a few minutes later, dressed to go touring again. This day’s summer dress was a dark olive green. A matching knitted shawl was tied around her hips, her hair and makeup were still left undone, and she looked as lovely as she had the day before. Of course, as far Odo was concerned, she could be wearing one of Quark’s gaudy suits and it wouldn’t make a difference. Nerys was lovely every day.  

Kira crossed the room to kiss Odo good morning. Odo watched as she crossed back to the replicator to order her breakfast. She requested an omelet in the Earth style, prepared with Krellian tomatoes and a Betazoid soft cheese she favored. She also added a side of Bolian cantaloupe and a slice of toasted  _ mapa _ bread. To complete her order, she requested her customary morning cup of raktijino. 

When her order was ready, Kira took the tray from the replicator and began to make her way back to Odo. Odo smiled to himself as he watched her cross the room. He could recall a time when Major Kira had vehemently avowed she would eat only Bajoran cuisine and nothing else. _ Colonel _ Kira, however, had all four corners of the quadrant represented on her breakfast tray. Their years spent on DS9 had changed them both in so many ways.

Kira set the tray on the table in the living area, took the armchair opposite Odo’s, and took her plate off the tray. She carefully balanced her plate on her knees. She picked up her fork and went straight for the eggs. 

“So,” she began as she cut into her omelet, “what’s happening with your case?”

“A lot,” Odo replied. He rested his chin on his fist as he watched Kira eat. “I do have several promising leads. In a few minutes, I’m meeting Inspector Krenn, and we’re heading to the ME’s office in Jamalo City to hear about the cause of death.”

“And these ‘promising leads?’ of yours?” Kira asked. “Where will they take you?”

“I don’t know yet. Probably nowhere good, and I’ll be spending the entire day with Krenn finding out, so I’d rather talk about you. What are your plans for today?”

“I’m heading back to the village,” Kira replied. She picked up her toast, dunked the corner of it in her raktijino, and took a bite. “I only got to see about half of it yesterday,” she said, talking around her food. “There’s an art gallery I wanted to see, a few more shops I wanted to visit, and there’s a restaurant that has live music. I plan on having dinner there and catching the show.”

“By yourself?”

“It’ll have to be,” Kira said. “It’s not like we know anyone around here, Odo. I’m a stranger here as much as the next tourist, and I’m not in the mood right now to contact any of my friends to join me.”

“Why not?”

She shrugged. “Dunno, really, just...not interested in other people’s company right now.”

Odo buried a yet another twinge of guilt. Kira’s antisocial mood was his fault. She’d planned this vacation to spend time with him, not other people. He added abandoning his lover to fend for herself in a strange town to his growing tally of transgressions.

“I thought you’d have hit the beach by now,” he said. “We came all this way to vacation by the ocean. Don’t you want to see it?”

“I do,” Kira said. 

She looked down at the toast in her hand and she became suddenly displeased with it. She dropped it back on the plate and then set the whole plate away from her with a heavy sigh. 

“But so do you, Odo,” she said, looking up at him. “You were so excited about seeing the beach, and I’m the one who got you excited about it. Somehow, it feels wrong to go without you. I figured when you were done with your case, we could go to the beach together.”

“You shouldn’t wait for me, Nerys. You’re assuming I’ll solve this case before our time here is up.”

“I think that’s a pretty safe assumption to make. It is you we’re talking about here. You’ll have this thing solved in no time.”

“I wish I was as sure of that as you are.”

“It’s not surety, Odo, it’s faith. I have faith in you, I always do, and you have yet to let me down. You’ll get the one who hurt your friend, I know it.”

Odo’s sky blue gaze grew warm as it met Kira’s. He held her gaze in his until a soft blush started to rise on her cheeks.

“Have I ever told you how much I love you?” he said.

“You have, several times,” Kira replied. “But you can certainly tell me again.”

Odo casually rose from his seat and made the short cross to Kira. He knelt next to her chair. Smiling, she turned to face him. He noticed a miniscule crumb of toast caught on the corner of her mouth. He used his thumb to brush it away. His thumb lingered to trace the edge of her lower lip.

“Finish your breakfast,” he said. “Please.”

Kira’s teeth caught the pad of his thumb as it crossed her mouth. “Will do,” she murmured.

Odo drew in a shaky breath. “I have to go.”

“You have to go.”

“I’m going.”

“So go.”

“I am.”

"Odo, just go already, before one of us starts taking off my clothes.”

“Right,” Odo said. He stood. “Gotta go.”

Odo started dragging himself away from Kira. He made some progress, but then realized he’d forgotten something. He doubled back to kiss her cheek. 

“Remember what I said about being careful.”

“I  _ will _ ,” Kira replied, “if you stop  _ fussing _ so much!”

Odo gave her a non-committal harrumph and headed out the door.

Despite the late start to his work day, Odo’s perfect punctuality record still held. He was outside the hotel and on the landing pad before Krenn landed his cruiser. Krenn was just touching down as Odo crossed the pavement. 

Odo finished his walk to the runabout as Krenn shut down his ship’s engines. He leaned casually against the Rio Grande’s hull as he waited for Krenn to disembark. Krenn’s dark blonde head stuck out from the police cruiser’s door and he gave Odo a wave. Odo nodded once in acknowledgement, opened the runabout’s door, and went inside, but left the door open for Krenn.

Odo was already at the helm when Krenn boarded the runabout. Krenn stood at the threshold of the ship’s main door and looked up and down, around and above, taking in the runabout’s simple interior. His grin and his eyes were wide with guileless enthusiasm. Odo thought Krenn looked like a kid at a  _ jumja _ stand.

“You know,” Krenn said, his smile fading, “I thought a Starfleet ship would be more impressive. It’s like the inside of a medical clinic in here. Only less fun.”

“As with many things, Krenn, you shouldn’t judge by appearances. A runabout might not be as flashy as you would wish, but I assure you, under the hood, the  _ Rio Grande _ has plenty to brag about.”

“I meant no offense,” Krenn said.

“I’m sure you didn’t,” Odo replied. He nodded at the co-pilot’s chair. “Sit down.”

Krenn sat down. “Whoa, I take it back,” he said. He rubbed the buff-colored leather of the chair’s armrests appreciatively. “This chair is my new favorite thing. It’s like sitting on a cloud. Starfleet sucks at interior decorating, but it sure knows ergonomics.”

“What’s your flight clearance?” Odo asked.

“Tier 2,” Krenn replied.

“It’ll do. Start the warm-up sequence.”

‘Who me’ was written all over Krenn’s face. Krenn’s surprise amused Odo, but he kept his expression straight. Despite Odo’s invitation, Krenn still hadn’t touched the control panel.

“Well?” Odo prompted. “I’m waiting.”

Krenn looked down at the panel. A mix of wariness and wonder lit Krenn’s eyes as he studied the controls. Odo maintained his stern expression, although the longer he watched Krenn, the harder it was getting.

“We haven’t got all day, Krenn.”

The wonder dropped from Krenn’s face. He got serious. “Right,” he said. “Computer, begin warm-up sequence.”

Odo had released the computer lock-outs so the ship would respond to Krenn. The engines started at Krenn’s command, and Krenn competently and efficiently ran through a standard flight check. Shortly after, Krenn began the take-off sequence. Odo kept a level eye on Krenn’s actions, ready to assist, but Krenn didn’t need him. Krenn guided the ship through take-off from the hotel’s landing pad without incident. Odo threw in an unnecessary ‘watch the rocks’ just to stay in character.

Krenn made a couple of adjustments to their course and turned to Odo. “You probably think I’m some kind of idiot getting this excited over tricorders and small craft.”

Odo answered with a non-committal grunt.

“Yeah,” Krenn agreed, “I know, it’s ridiculous, but I can’t help it. Space travel is a minor obsession of mine. I always wanted to travel the stars. I dreamed of it night after night in the labor camp. After the Occupation ended, I was sure I would get my chance, but Bajor no longer had an active space program, unless you count the militia, which doesn’t count for much these days. I wanted some action regardless, so the police academy seemed like a good compromise. After I graduated, Starfleet was recruiting on Bajor, and I almost signed up, but then they had that conflict with the Klingons, and then, we had the second occupation with the Dominion and somewhere in there, I met my wife and we got married and then we had a baby and then…” Krenn trailed off. He shrugged. “I’m sort of grounded now, you know?”

“Starfleet does accommodate families,” Odo replied.

"Immediate family, sure. We can’t load my wife’s family—her parents, her uncles, her aunts, her cousins—all onto a starship. My wife is one of the lucky few who still have an extended family. Not like me. It’s just me and my brother left. I could never ask my wife to give up that kind of a blessing, of still having a big family, just so I could get my way.” Krenn looked around the runabout again and sighed wistfully. “A man can still dream, though, you know?”

Odo pretended to be occupied with something on the control panel to cover yet another heavy battering from his overly burdened conscience. This was exactly why Odo’s trips to Bajor were limited, why he didn’t engage in small talk, and why he could never call Bajor home. What would Krenn say if he knew it had been Odo’s actions that had aggravated Starfleet’s most recent conflict with the Klingons? Or even better, if Krenn knew of Odo’s involvement with the Dominion during the second occupation? Odo’s people were currently threatening the Alpha Quadrant’s entire way of life, and it had been Odo himself that drawn the Dominion’s eye to the Alpha Quadrant in the first place, essentially waking the dragon and bringing war to Bajor’s doorstep. Did Krenn have any idea who he was sitting next to?

Apparently, he didn’t. “What about you?” Krenn asked. “You have any family?”

Odo turned to Krenn and gave him a long, admonishing stare.

“Oh, right. Sorry. You just seem like such a decent guy, I forgot that you’re a—”

Krenn cut himself off before he finished speaking what promised to be a poor choice of words. An awkward silence filled the cabin. Krenn’s enthusiasm for flying the runabout evaporated. He looked at the helm, the viewscreen, the walls, at anything but Odo.

Odo took pity on Krenn. His discomfort was unwarranted. As Krenn said, he meant no offense, and he hadn’t really given any. 

“Kira,” Odo said.

“Huh?”

“Colonel Kira,” Odo repeated. “If I had anyone I’d call family, it would be her.”

A slow smile lifted Krenn’s mouth. “Right,” he said. He held his smile for a little longer, then changed the subject. “So,” he said, “enough blabber. We’re supposed to be working. Did you get anywhere with the case last night?”

Odo had gotten further with the case than he’d told Krenn about, much further. However, he was hesitant to divulge what he’d learned. He wanted to wait until he heard from Garak and Quark before he said anything to Krenn about his suspicions of Carter because they were still only that—suspicions. He had no hard proof of anything about Carter, and the way he obtained his information wasn’t exactly legal. He’d never informed Carter he was being recorded. He’d also never cleared Garak’s assignment of minor espionage against a foreign government with his militia superiors. Those same superiors also wouldn’t appreciate that Odo had invited a certain shady bartender into an official investigation. Odo’s investigation of Carter was currently operating in the gray, a place he was able to work from under Sisko’s leadership because he had Sisko’s confidence. However, he was on Bajor now. He had to be circumspect because informing Krenn about any of it could drag Krenn into the gray with him. Until Odo had something solid, the less Krenn knew, the better.

“A couple of things came up,” Odo said. “I’m looking into them.”

“I assume you’ll keep me in the loop?”

Odo’s tone was terse. “When I know something worth speaking of, you will, too.”

Krenn gave Odo a sidelong glance. “You really are a testy son of a  _ targ, _ aren’t you?”

Odo didn’t answer that, though the answer was yes, and he knew it. “How much longer until we reach Jamalo?”

“About fifteen minutes,” Krenn replied

The conversation faded again as Krenn flew the shuttle toward Jamalo, but this time, it was professionally companionable. Though the window of the runabout, Odo could see it was yet another fine day to fly a friendly Bajoran sky, not that he expected any less. He wondered if the Maldonian Islands ever experienced any sorts of days but fine ones. It was becoming almost monotonous, the constant perfection of sunny skies, breathtaking landscapes, and crystalline waters. Odo thought if he ever chose a planetary place to live, he’d be more comfortable in a climate that was more like himself—testy.

The capital city of Jamalo soon came into view. Odo recognized it from his flight in, by the ordered streets and spired towers. Small craft both ground and sky busied the thoroughfares. As Krenn flew over the city, Odo could make out the people better than he had the first time through. As compared to the village on Latara, Jamalo was well populated. All shapes, all colors, all sizes, all types of humanoids crowded the streets and not all of them were Bajoran. Jamalo was a cosmopolitan city.

Krenn flew the runabout over the city’s center. They passed the ancient red and gold dome of the city’s main temple which marked the beginning of the downtown district. Nearby, a more modern commercial tower housed the government offices of the Maldonian Islands. The government office tower was a venerably old building, but not as old as the temple or many of the city’s other structures. The tower’s construction reminded Odo of the Latara monastery—glass, marble, concrete, and windows—but the government building lacked the fairy-tale whimsy of silver-domed tops and volcanic cliffs as a backdrop. In this context, he was not as impressed with this particular time period in Bajoran architectural aesthetic. Compared to the ancient magnificence of the temple, the government tower was an eyesore.

Krenn flew the ship past the tower and began his descent. He guided the shuttle down onto the flat roof of a large building that towered several floors above its neighbors. The Bajoran symbol for ‘medicine’ was painted inside a square on the roof, bright green on white, marking it as the hospital to passing pilots. Once Krenn landed the ship on the hospital’s landing pad, Odo aided Krenn in shutting it down and securing it. The two lawmen disembarked the shuttle and crossed the roof to the hospital’s entrance.

A turbo lift system rapidly transported Krenn and Odo from the hospital roof all the way down to the lowest level. The lowest level was where the morgue was located. At the bottom floor, the lift door opened, and the men stepped off. The morgue level was brightly lit and immaculately clean, with white walls and green frosted glass and shiny metallics, but it didn’t change the fact that they were in the house of the dead. Modern interiors and sleek styling only added to the sense of the macabre because it was so incongruous. Odo, however, was more fascinated than fearful. At another time, he might have asked for a tour of the facilities as he’d never seen a fully operational hospital morgue before and the idea intrigued him. Odo still harbored an interest in humanoid death rituals, though he rarely discussed it these days. Nerys had told him it was creepy.

As they navigated the hallways of the city morgue, Krenn seemed to know where he was heading, so Odo followed his lead. Krenn led them half way down the brightly lit main corridor and took a left-hand turn that took them to another squeaky-clean corridor. They passed a series of private offices hidden behind more frosted glass. Krenn stopped in front of one door in particular, and Odo read the plaque next to it:  _ Chief Medical Examiner for the Maldonian Island Provincial Sector. _

Krenn hit the comm panel below the plaque.“ _ Yes?” _ a baritone voice answered.

“Inspector Krenn, Bajoran police. We have an appointment.”

_ “Ah, yes, yes. Come in, please.” _

The opaque glass door to the ME’s office slid into its recess. Odo and Krenn stepped forward. The medical examiner rose from his desk to greet them. He was a man of middle years, dark skinned, tall and lanky, with gray and black wiry hair he wore closely cropped to his head. He was wearing a red medical coat, but it wasn’t closed, revealing clean red scrubs underneath. The doctor’s smile was large and warm as he stepped forward to greet Odo and Krenn.

“Good morning, gentlemen,” he said. “I am Doctor Ej’ah Tallen.”

“Inspector Krenn Mikos, and this is Security Chief Odo of DS9. He’s currently consulting on our case.”

“Please, sit down,” Doctor Ej’ah said. He waved his arm at a light blue sofa and two matching chairs situated in the corner of his office. Odo and Krenn sat down on the sofa. Doctor Ej’ah also offered refreshment, which Odo and Krenn politely declined.

Doctor Ej’ah compressed his large frame into an armchair opposite Odo and Krenn, leaning forward toward the edge of his seat. Dark brown hands as big as dinner plates clasped together and hung between his knees. 

“So,” Doctor Ej’ah began. “You are here about Hadara Mari.”

“We are,” Odo replied. “Have you established a cause of death, Doctor?”

“Yes and no,” Doctor Ej’ah replied. “I know the direct cause of our victim’s death, but I cannot precisely explain what led to it. This is a very unusual case.”

“How so?” Krenn asked.

“The young lady’s cause of death was cardiac arrest attributed to acute dehydration. However, I cannot be certain what caused the dehydration.”

Odo recalled the odd spotting on Hadara’s silks, the fluids pooled by her body. “Explain,” Odo said.

“The deceased’s body chemistry was most unusual,” Doctor Ej’ah replied. “A full blood analysis showed the mineral balances in her body were highly abnormal. The balance of sodium in her blood was completely off. Based on the scans and a physical examination of the evidence, something caused her body to begin rapidly purging itself of its water and her internal organs suffered damage as a result. Her heart gave out first, which was the direct cause of death.”

“So she was poisoned,” Odo said.

“It does appear so,” Doctor Ej’ah replied. “However, I still cannot tell you with what agent. The only thing I can tell you is that it is composed of a magnesium salt compound. You would know this compound as common medicine salt. She also had highly concentrated amounts of local herbs in her system, but I’m baffled at their combination.”

“The computer can’t tell you anything?” Krenn asked.

“Only what the herbs were, not why they were in the victim’s system, or if they had anything to do with her death. The magnesium salt alone might have been enough to kill her as it is toxic when ingested, but based on the levels we found in her system, she would had time to seek medical help before a toxic reaction could cause her death. Plenty of time. As for the herbs, I found two distinct herbal extracts in her system. Both are common flowering weeds native to the Maldonian Islands. These herbs have no medicinal or culinary use, but according to the database, they also aren’t poisonous. There would be no reason for the victim to be supplementing herself with these herbs, but she did ingest them. The herbal extracts were present in her stomach contents along with traces of magnesium chloride and replicated deka tea.”

It was times like these that Odo both hated and loved that he was usually right. The tea had been what killed Hadara. But how was still up for debate. The other issue was that none of the evidence pointed to a deliberate poisoning. Krenn was treating the death investigation as a murder, and he was right to do so, but it was possible Hadara had somehow poisoned herself.

“Doctor,” Krenn began, “we could have done all this over the comm. Is there a reason you wanted to see us personally?”

Doctor Ej’ah rubbed a hand over his head. He shrugged. “This case is baffling, as I said. In this day and age of such marvelous technology, it is so rare for our computers to be unable to find a full explanation. I asked you here because I thought maybe there was something you didn’t send me in the case file, some evidentiary piece I’m missing that would help me make an official declaration of how the victim died. Maybe an investigator’s insight you wouldn’t have included in your reports.”

“I sent you everything we got so far,” Krenn said. “Odo and I are working exclusively on this case today. If we discover anything new, I’ll be sure you get it.”

“The tea,” Odo added. “Has it been run through forensics yet?”

“Not yet,” replied Krenn. “It’s scheduled for today.” To Doctor Ej’ah he said, “We found a cup of deka tea at the crime scene. We matched it as being the victim’s. Would it help if we sent you a sample?”

“It would,” Doctor Ej’ah replied. “If the tea was contaminated, an undiluted sample might give me more information.”

“I’ll arrange it,” Krenn said.

“Excellent,” Doctor Ej’ah replied. He stood up from his arm chair. Odo and Krenn rose with the doctor. “I am very motivated to help you discover what happened to this victim,” he said. “This woman did not die an easy death. I’d like to help you resolve her case and see her pagh at rest.”

“Doctor,” Odo asked as they walked to the door, “out of curiosity, what are the names of the two herbs you found in the victim’s system?”

“Maiden flower and ratweed,” the doctor replied. “Maiden flower is a flowering grass with a white brushy top that grows in the less-dense parts of the jungle. Very common. Ratweed is also a grass. It is distinguished by its seed pod. The pod is a thistly, spine-covered bulbous red protrusion at the base of the plant. Ratweed is found on the parts of the islands that have high concentrations of volcanic soil. Usually, one has to go high into the mountains to find it.”

“And Doctor, may I ask, are you a native of the Maldonian Islands?”

Doctor Ej’ah raised a surprised brow at the oddness of Odo's question. “No, I am not. I am a born-and-raised islander, but my islands are in the Eastern Province.”

“I see,” Odo said. “Thank you, and thank you for your time.”

Odo and Krenn then took their leave of Doctor Ej’ah. They headed back to the lift. Both of them were silent on the short trip up to the hospital landing pad. They were still silent as they walked across the hospital’s wide, flat roof. They boarded the _ Rio Grande _ , and Odo again let Krenn fly. Odo wasn’t in the mood for flying. Odo wanted to use the time to think.

And think Odo did as he half-heartedly co-piloted the runabout. Odo thought about everything he’d learned so far in the case and tried to find a way to fit it all together, but he couldn’t, not yet. He was still missing the linking information he needed from DS9. He checked the  _ Rio Grande _ ’s comm for any messages or new downloads. Still nothing on the case, but he’d set both Garak and Quark a difficult task. Breaking into encrypted Cardassian databases and paying off the right people on Ferenginar took time, so Odo had to be patient. He also had many more questions for Joshua Carter, but not until he discovered Carter’s true identity. Vinna Rem was not off Odo’s list of suspects, either, although he still had no motive and no proof Carter or Vinna Rem had anything to do with Hadara’s death. He needed a clear murder method to move this case forward, and the information the ME provided about how Hadara died didn't answer any of Odo's questions. In fact, Doctor's Ej'ah's statements only resulted in new questions.

Odo’s questions were, in part, about names. There was so much in a name. Ratweed, for instance. Why name a plant after a rodent? What did the name say about the plant itself? There was often a good reason a thing had the name it did. Some names were pragmatically descriptive, although the meaning was often lost over time or through translation. For instance, most people didn’t know the full meaning of Odo’s name as it had been shortened from its Cardassian original. Odo’s full name,  _ odo’ital _ , translated to 'nothing,' and so Odo had deemed himself to be for so many years based on how he was addressed. 

“Odo, are you going to tell me what’s going on?” Krenn asked.

Odo came out of his reverie. “What do you mean?”

“You’re on to something,” Krenn replied, "something with our case."

“What makes you think that?”

“Look, I don’t know you that well, Odo, but I do know your reputation. I knew it before I met you. Why do think I didn’t fight harder about having some ‘whoever’ from the militia assigned to my case, or why I haven’t pressed harder about the details of your connection to our victim? Your reputation as an officer is tritanium-clad. DS9 is one of the most secure deep space facilities out there, and that’s because of you and your team. You’re also the fastest sleuth in the sector and most of the Bajoran police force knows it. You’re kinda famous in certain circles, you know.”

That was a shock. Odo had no idea he had that wide of a reputation, and he wasn’t sure how he felt about it. Proud? Accomplished? Horrified?

“So?” Krenn prompted. “I know you have something. What are you not telling me? What’s on your mind?”

“Medicine salt and ratweed,” Odo said.

“Huh?”

“The Latara was a monastery before it was a resort. Before the Occupation, the monks at the Latara specialized in making medicine salts. Monks are also known to collect specialized knowledge like herblore, the kind of lore that over the course of time and after half a century of Cardassian occupation may have been lost. If such knowledge were lost, it would be unavailable for reference in an ME’s computer archives, an ME who may not be familiar with local lore since he isn’t from this area.”

“So you think salt-making monks have something to do with Hadara Mari’s death? How?”

“I’m not sure they do,” Odo replied. “We have many leads, and they all have possibility. But do you not find it a little too coincidental that our victim has medicine salt in her blood, where it has no business being, when she was killed at a site where medicine salts were compounded on a regular basis?”

Krenn’s expression darkened as he caught up with Odo’s lie of thought. “I do, in fact, find that a little too coincidental,” Krenn said. “I also think we might need to get a bit of a history lesson on salt-making. Any idea who we should talk with next?”

“The only historian I know of in this area is a rather unsavory man who just happened to work with our victim,” Odo said. “All things considered, I’m not so sure I’d trust his scholarship. I think you and I are going to have to be the scholars today and do our own research.”

“Hmph. I never liked history,” Krenn said. “Memorizing all those dates always gave me a headache. However, I do remember a great place to do some academic research. When I was in the academy, I did most of my studying there. I swear the hasperat at this place is the only reason I ever passed anything, and it’s actually not too far from here. Do you mind?”

“Not at all,” Odo said. And he didn’t. He had a tricorder. Tricorders could work from anywhere.

“Excellent,” Krenn said. He turned the shuttle around in a neat half-loop and headed back to Jamalo City. He turned to Odo, grinning. “So, hey, professor,” he said, “is there gonna be a test later? Because my  _ targ _ ate my homework and my grandma was sick, so I didn’t get to study.”

Odo couldn’t help the half-laugh that escaped him. “Shut up and fly, Krenn.”


	13. Chapter 13

 

Krenn took a bite of his hasperat—his second round—and his features immediately settled into an expression of satisfied delight. Krenn’s gratified expression reminded Odo of Hadara Mari and that fateful morning on Terok Nor, and of how a simple bowl of porridge had produced very much the same effect on her. Odo’s interpretation of that expression, however, was vastly different from his Terok Nor days, as was his ability to sympathize with it. 

Once, Odo had been sentenced by the Link to life as a solid, a sentence he received an early release from, but the Link were not the ones to release him. The Link had thought to leave him trapped in solid form forever, subject to the wills of the flesh like any humanoid would be, and the moment Odo awoke naked and shivering in his new humanoid body, the question he had asked himself all those years ago on Terok Nor as he watched Hadara eat her cereal was answered. Odo had the opportunity to learn  _ exactly  _ what type of being he would be under the relentless call of the needs of the flesh, and it hadn’t been nearly as bad as he’d thought.

Not that Odo’s transformation to a humanoid hadn’t been punishing. It was. He was as miserable as any free being would be to find his reality so wholly altered. However, his time as a solid had also given him a deep understanding of humanoids his people could never obtain themselves because he’d experienced life as a solid first-hand. Being a solid had its trials, but it also had its pleasures, and now Odo had direct experience with both. He had known the pleasure humanoids experienced from simple acts of living, things like eating and drinking and sex, and he no longer judged them so harshly for their preoccupation with seeking these pleasures. Being subject to these same instinctive drives and the deep relief of satisfying them had eliminated many of his admittedly arrogant misconceptions. Living fully as a solid and not just as a copy of one had given him true perspective.

By comparing his experiences, Odo had also learned that Changelings weren’t so different from humanoids, at least not at their core. His people and the solids shared several need-based similarities—safety, love, companionship. The need for socialization and physical affection was fundamental to both species. Odo understood these things long before he was forced to live as a solid, and even more so afterward, but his people were still too arrogant and too proud to acknowledge that Changelings shared any commonalities whatsoever with humanoids. Convincing his people they had nothing to fear from peaceful coexistence with the solids and could easily share a universe with them had remained a personal mission of Odo’s, a personal mission that seemed to be edging into a fantasy, a lofty but noble dream that might never come true, reduced to almost a delusion at this stage in his life that he dangerously indulged to ease the deep grief of his continued exile.

Odo had to hold tight to that dream, even if it was starting to feel impossible. He _ had _ to, he had to hold tight to his hope or he’d risk running mad because it would mean everything he’d been through in the last ten years would be for naught. Eventually, he told himself, he would get his chance; he just had to be patient. He get would get his chance to return to the Link and then, he would show them. He would share all his experiences of his life among the solids, every single sensation, every memory, every agony, every bit of suffering and longing and glory and joy he’d collected in these long years of his life among the solids and rain it all down on his people in a formless flood of thought. Through him, the Link would learn again all it had forgotten. After all, the want of knowledge about humanoid life was why the Link had exiled him in the first place, why they’d orphaned him witless and alone to the endless void of space, and far be it for Odo to not do his duty and bring the knowledge of that experience back to them, just as the Link decided he should. One day, and one day soon, Odo would make sure the Link received from him  _ exactly _ what they had asked him to provide.

Odo felt his sensory matrix begin to roil with the same corrosive acridness he always felt when he thought too long on his people and their hypocrisy. On all they’d done to him. On what they continued to do to him and the people he held dear. If he continued to think on it, his bitterness would swell into hatred, and he would become just as poisoned by fear and paranoia as the Link. Along with his longing, he had to let his resentment towards his people go, too, or he wouldn’t accomplish a damned thing on behalf of anyone. 

Odo deliberately shifted his thoughts away from the unpleasant path they’d taken and returned his attention to the immediate pleasures in front of him, to the sights and sounds of Jamalo City’s central public park. Krenn’s academic hotspot had turned out to be a wide park bench sheltered under a grandly ancient _ kai’boa _ tree. The bench was a short walk away from a food cart that served street-style hasperat. 

Krenn had bought his first round of hasperat from the cart’s vendor, a woman old enough to be Krenn’s mother, and who remembered Krenn with obvious fondness. After Krenn flirted with cart vendor for several agonizing minutes, he bought the second round of hasparat, and then led Odo to the bench. He encouraged Odo to relax and enjoy for a moment, to let it all go, even for ‘just a few,’ and enjoy the park, and Odo had actually taken the advice. Odo needed this short breather from their case and his grief more than he’d realized. 

The massive canopy of the kai’boa tree crowned in a riot of bright gold leaves ten meters above their heads and provided a generous shelter from the tropical sun. The tree’s canopy also kept the ground around them cool, and Odo was grateful for the oasis from the heat. His sensory matrix was receiving a healthy recharge from some time outside, from blue sky, fresh air, and friendly wildlife. The restorative feeling generated by time spent in a green space made him wonder why his people chose to hole themselves up on a planet that was mostly arid. Clearly, the health benefits of fresh air and greenery were another commonality between his people and the solids.

“So,” Krenn began, one cheek swelled with a mouthful of hasperat. “We’re still on duty. I guess we should get back to it. We’re supposed to be studying up on the Latara. We already know that the Latara is old, that it was a monastery, and that it was once occupied by the Cardassians. What else do we know?”

Odo sighed a little as he picked up his tricorder and activated it.  _ Right. Back to work… _ ”Other than that, not much,” he replied. “I’m not sure we need to know much more about the monastery itself right now, anyway. I think we need to know more about the people who lived in it.”

“Mmm,” Krenn agreed. He swallowed his food and was quickly on to the next bite. “We should probably find some of the survivors, see if we can talk them.” He gestured with his hasperat at Odo’s tricorder. “Care to do the honors? I don’t want to get grease all over Starfleet’s stuff.”

Odo opened the tricorder’s main menu and set it to search mode. The tricorder was automatically queued to the Federation database, but he needed the Bajoran one. He asked for a passthrough and was promptly directed to the Bajoran public archives. He gave the Bajoran archival computer a simple search command: “Latara Monastery survivors.”

The computer suggested several file entries to Odo about the Latara, but all of them were recent and were about the monastery’s rebuilding and the opening of the hotel. The word ‘survivor’ had been excluded. Not what Odo asked for. The misdirect was unexpected, too. Holes had been punched in the Bajoran public archives because of the Occupation, but not usually ones this big. Cardassians were obsessive records keepers, but they hadn’t concerned themselves with assigning anyone to maintain the original Bajoran databases. File degradation had occurred as a result. Odo often ran into dead ends and incomplete files during his searches, but the Latara was old enough and popular enough to supersede the Occupation’s damage. Records with holes were expected, but there shouldn’t be no records at all. It was highly unusual, and a mystery worth attending to, but not at the moment. Odo had other work to do first.

Odo decided to upgrade his search to the the Bajoran militia databases. Perhaps he’d have more luck with those. He accessed the section containing the post-Occupation relocation files and began the search again.

The Bajoran militia had archived two records regarding the relocation of survivors from the Latara Monastery, and both said the same thing: Only one survivor was documented.  Only one lonely monk was still alive out of a place that once housed over a thousand men and women, all of whom had been scattered to Bajor’s winds by the Obsidian Order. What were the odds of only one survivor remaining under those circumstances?

That question generated a probability equation in Odo’s head too terrible to calculate. Odo wasn’t much of one to dwell on the precarious nature of mortality, mostly because he didn’t have any, but that didn’t mean his life couldn’t be taken from him. Odo’s people didn’t age, they didn’t get sick, but they could be killed. During the Occupation, he’d been closer to an unnatural death than he’d ever let himself acknowledge, as had all Bajorans, and it wasn’t something he liked to remember. Odo often proclaimed that he didn’t believe in luck, and it was mostly true, but he couldn’t deny to himself that he’d had plenty of it in his life. He was well aware that he had been spared a dark fate during the Occupation simply by being in the right place at the right time, by meeting the right people, by a few fortunate rolls of the dice the universe had carelessly tossed for him. Odo had beaten the odds by surviving the Occupation of Bajor, and he knew it.

But how lucky was it to be the one surviving soul in a scattered thousand?

And how lonely was it?

_ “Prophets!”  _ Krenn spat. He had finished his meal. He was leaning over Odo’s shoulder and reading the tricorder. “Just one guy? That’s it?”

“I’m afraid so,” Odo said. He tilted the tricorder so Krenn could read with him. “Ranjen Jendu Zemm, age one hundred and one, placed in an adult care facility by the militia relief agency shortly after the PG took power. He’s been there these last eight years. The facility is located in Rankar Province.”

“Only one guy,” Krenn repeated, shaking his head with disbelief. He covered his eyes. “ _ Shit.  _ No wonder no one ever came back to reopen the monastery. There was no one left to do it.”

Krenn leaned back against the bench and his body immediately jerked forward again. He leaned his elbows on his knees and stared at the dirt between his boots. He fidgeted, kicked the dirt, and cursed again.

“Prophets-forsaken Cardassian thugs!”  

Krenn shot up from the bench. He looked back at Odo but didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to. Break time was definitely over. 

“Let’s go,” Krenn said.

Krenn turned away from the bench and started walking in the direction of the public landing pad where they’d left the _ Rio Grande _ . The landing pad was about a half a kilometer away from the park. Odo easily caught up with Krenn and matched his determined stride. The lawmen made short, silent work of the walk. They sliently boarded the runabout. Krenn stayed absorbed in his mood of dark determination as he warmed up the ship. Odo was tensely efficient as he took the co-pilot’s chair and helped speed the process along. Krenn set coordinates for Rankar Province and the adult care center, and took off.

Rankar Province was part of one of Bajor’s larger continents and half a globe away from the islands. Because they would pass over thousands of kilometers of open ocean to get to it, Krenn opened up the  _ Rio Grande’ _ s engines and did some real flying. The _ Rio Grande  _ swiftly ate up the distance. Rankar province was also in winter that time of year. When they landed the ship in the village where the adult care facility was located, and then disembarked, the shock of the temperature change hit both Krenn and Odo like a slap.

Adjusting to the cold wasn’t much of a problem for a shapeshifter, but it was for a humanoid. Krenn sputtered and cursed as a blast of chill wind blew over them. Odo remembered Krenn wouldn’t have a winter jacket and was about to get him one from the ship’s stores, but then he remembered the microtech in the fabric of Krenn’s police uniform. The fabric could adjust itself to match environmental conditions. Kira’s station uniform contained the same technology and kept her warm against the chill of space, which was how she got away with an easier, more flexible style than did their Starfleet counterparts. The Federation didn’t have all the advantages.

Krenn shivered and rubbed his arms. “C’mon, clothes, do your job!”

“Would you rather transport?” Odo asked.

Krenn paused to consider it. “Nah,” he decided. “It’s not that far. I’ll suck it up. Besides, I need to walk off all that hasperat I ate.”

Krenn and Odo began their trek into the village. Winter on Bajor rarely meant snow for the majority of the inhabited parts of the planet, but it did get cold enough to freeze in many places. As they walked onto the main street of the village and through the main square, they passed a metal monument of the village’s founding matriarch, raised on the central dias of a large fountain. The fountain was turned off and drained dry for the winter season, making the matriarch look rather forlorn on her pedestal. The name of this particular village and the matriarch escaped Odo. He realized he hadn’t checked the name of this place before they landed, but it looked typical of the Bajor he was used to—guard towers on the outer walls that still housed empty phaser turrets, natural stone buildings bearing the scars of battle, newer-looking home fronts that were post-revolution rebuilds, and in the case of this particular village, two temple domes on the horizon that opposed one another on the western skyline. Both domes had active beacon lights winking faintly from their tops. A prosperous and populated village, then, to be able to support two working temples.

Krenn consulted his borrowed tricorder. “This way,” he said and turned down a cobbled side street. 

Odo followed Krenn’s lead, still taking in the town. The midday light was a faded winter gray. Several people moved about the streets, all of them cloaked and hooded against the biting wind. A local constable approached Odo and Krenn from the opposite direction of the walkway. Odo expected to be stopped and questioned, but the man only gave them a brief nod of greeting as he passed. The village must also be relatively trouble-free, then, if local authorities weren’t worried about uniformed strangers wandering their streets.

Krenn’s next turn took them down another cobbled side street that paralleled a tall stone privacy wall. They followed the wall until they arrived at a pair of aged metal gates. Odo read the plaque on the right side of the gates: ‘Nuena Township Adult Care Center.’

“This must be the place,” Krenn said.

There was a metal comm box on Odo’s right. Odo hit the icon to send a call. It was promptly answered. A young, sharp-featured woman wearing the light blue hood of a religious novice appeared on the view screen.

“Good afternoon, sirs. May I help you?”

“Security Chief Odo and Inspector Krenn. We’re here on police business. We need to speak with Jendu Zemm.”

The novice paused to stare at Odo and Krenn through the screen. Her expression was inscrutable. “Certainly,” she finally answered. “I’ll open the gates for you. Please come through the visitor’s entrance.”

Odo acknowledged the message, and Odo and Krenn followed their instructions. The metal gates eased open silently and automatically onto a worn stone path. The building at the end of the path was in the old longhouse style with pale, rough plaster walls and a rustic roof with dark beams. Based on the well-tended gardens, the age of the building, as well as the many religious effigies on the grounds, Odo suspected another monastic convert. In this case, conversion wasn’t as offensive to Bajoran culture. Bajoran families traditionally cared for their own infirm, but for those that had no family, the temple had always provided sanctuary.

The worn stone path ended at a small courtyard that was paved in a decorative geometric pattern. Odo recognized the pattern as the symbols for respite and healing. Krenn and Odo cut across the courtyard and came to the main door of the longhouse, marked as the visitor’s entrance. They stepped forward and entered the building through a pair of modern automatic doors.

The visitors lobby was small and simple and familiar, with a main receiving desk and a waiting area. The blue-hooded novice was behind the desk. She greeted Odo and Krenn with another smile, one that Odo didn’t quite buy, and asked them for identification. Krenn and Odo both provided a palm for her to scan. From under her blue hood, she took surreptitious glances at her guests as she waited for the computer to confirm their identities.

Once the computer was finished, the novice returned her gaze fully to Odo and Krenn. She folded her hands neatly in front of her on the desk. Her glance was steady from beneath her blue hood, her head tilting stiffly on her neck as she coldly assessed the lawmen. Odo was reminded of a watchful little kestrel monitoring a field for mice.

“Your clearance,” she said to Odo, “is militia-issued.”

“It is,” Odo replied.

“I thought you said you were here on police business.”

“I am.”.

“But what does the militia have to do with police business? Surely, we haven’t returned to martial law.”

“Check your screen again,” Odo said. “Read the temporary assignment section.”

The novice did as Odo asked. She looked almost displeased by the results. “You are temporarily assigned to the planetary police force as an investigative consultant. I see.” She looked up again. “You said you wanted to see Ranjen Jendu, correct?”

“Yes,” Odo replied.

“For what purpose?”

“We are conducting a murder investigation,” Odo replied. “The murder occurred on the grounds of the Latara Monastery, noe the Latara Hotel and Resort.”

“Ah, yes,” the novice said. “I heard something about that on the news broadcast. But what would that awfulness have to do with the ranjen?”

“He is the sole survivor of the Latara,” Odo replied. “We have some questions for him related to our case.”

“What types of questions?”

Odo crossed his arms over his chest and gave the novice a stern stare. He’d lost his patience with this woman. Her fledgling bureaucracy was serving no purpose except to waste time and slow down a murder investigation. Besides, his business was not her concern.

“That would be police business, and not yours, miss.”

“Do you have a warrant to question the ranjen?”

“No.”

“Then your visit would be our business, sir. Ranjen Jendu has no family. The temple has power of interest over his affairs, and he is in our care. He is frail at his age, and we would know that the purpose of your visit is worth disturbing what peace is left to him.”

“Oh, well, silly me,” Odo sneered. “I thought a murder was a worthy enough cause to ask a retired monk a few questions.” 

“I do not wish to appear uncooperative, sir. However, I have pre-prepared information I can provide about the ranjen’s history and the monastery that does not require disturbing the ranjen. If all you require is basic biographical and historical information, obtaining it from the prepared report rather than attempting an interview with the ranjen is easier for everyone.”

“We’re not the only ones to come here looking for the ranjen, then,” Krenn said.

“Of course not,” the novice sniffed. “Ranjen Jendu is the sole survivor of one of the most brutal incidents of religious repression to occur in Bajoran history. Several people have come to ask about the Latara and the massacre over the years, but it is a cruel thing to ask an elderly man to continuously recount the slaughter of his friends. We have stopped letting outsiders in to see him.”

“Do you have a record of these visitors?” Odo asked.

“Naturally,” the novice replied.

“We’d like to see them. Unless you want a warrant first.”

With a haughty stiffness, the novice turned to her computer and made a few taps to the keys. She turned her screen around so Odo and Krenn could read it. 

Odo scanned across the names and dates on Ranjen Jendu’s visitor’s list. The visits had occurred sporadically but at relative frequency for a man with no family, backing up the novice’s statements. Some of the names on the list Odo recognized—journalists, a well-known author, a couple of high-ranking militia officers. He was taken aback to find one rather infamous name on the list—Vedek Wenn Adami. What had Wenn Adami wanted with an old ranjen?

According to the computer logs, Wenn Adami had visited the Nuena adult care center two years before she was named kai. Odo paused to do the math and extrapolate Wenn’s intent. The date of Wenn’s visit with Ranjen Jendu coincided with the time when she was building public support for her election to kai. Wenn’s visit was likely a publicity stunt, then, but if so, why hadn’t anyone reported more about her visit to the newswires? Why did the public archives Odo had just searched in the park not mention her visit to the Latara’s sole survivor? That's just the type of detail the press ate up and the search algorithms should have linked. Plus, the Wenn Adami Odo knew would have sang it from the press’s rooftops that she graced the place with her presence, especially during an election season. She did, after all, have an image to manufacture.

Odo looked farther down the list, scanning for more mentions of Wenn, but there were none. She only visited the ranjen once. His gaze slid down to latest entries, and the intrigue deepened, as did his sense of foreboding. Something big was definitely going on at the adult care center, and it was centered around Ranjen Jendu. 

Odo looked to Krenn. Krenn’s drawn brow and pinched mouth expression said he was just as concerned as Odo by the last name registered on Jendu’s guest list. The only guest to visit Jendu Zemm since Wenn’s visit was their victim, Hadara Mari. Hadara had visited Jendu several times over the last two years. Until six months ago, Hadara had been visiting the ranjen regularly. In the last six months, Hadara had visited only two times.

Odo glared at the novice. “You said you heard about the murder at the Latara. The name Hadara Mari didn’t sound familiar to you?”

“Should it?”

“She was our victim,” Krenn said, “and she’s all over your visitors list.”

The novice’s face turned pale. “What?”

The novice turned the screen around again. She read across the list and her face blanched even whiter. She clutched at the light blue fabric around her neck, drawing it away from her chin.

“My goodness, I had no idea! I-I’ve only been at this post for three months. We rotate duties here. I never saw the names on this list before today.”

Odo handed his tricorder over the desk. “Upload the log entries from Jendu Zemm’s vistor’s list to this tricorder. Be sure your ID is tagged on the upload.”

The novice took the tricorder from Odo. After a brief moment to examine the foreign technology, she did as Odo asked. She handed the tricorder back to Odo.

“Now,” Odo said, “have you decided two police officials who are investigating a murder and are here on official business have sufficient cause to see the ranjen? Or do I need to get a warrant and come back with an entire investigative team?”

“Oh, that won’t be necessary, sir,” the novice said. “Your security clearance checked. I’ll make arrangements immediately.”

Odo rolled his eyes. Of course, his security clearance checked! And she had wasted precious time grandstanding, something Odo truly destested, but he didn’t want to waste any more time pointing it out. Odo settled for glowering darkly at her instead as she tapped the comm icon on her work panel. She sent a vocal message requesting a guest escort. Shortly after, a young man with bright red hair appeared—an initiate based on the pure white of his robes. The novice instructed the initiate to escort Odo and Krenn to see Ranjen Jendu.

The initiate bowed a greeting to Odo and Krenn and led the lawmen away from the reception area. Odo and Krenn followed him down a dark, narrow hallway with a low ceiling that had several doors--residence rooms, presumably. The original doors of the building had all had been replaced and each door was a modern gray alloy. The modern, metallic sleekness of automatic doors sat oddly in old plaster.

They arrived at the ranjen’s room. Odo and Krenn waited behind the initiate as he tapped the chime icon on the panel next to the door. The initiate didn’t wait for a response. He tapped an icon on an adjoining panel to open the door. He made a motion for Odo and Krenn to wait in the hall and stuck his head inside the room.

“Good afternoon, Ranjen! There’s a couple of folks here to see you!”

_ “Eh?” _

“I said, FOLKS. HERE TO SEE YOU.”

_ “Oh…Tell ‘em to bug off!” _

“CAN’T. IT’S THE POLICE.”

_ “The police can bug off even more!” _

The initiate rolled his eyes. “The Ranjen has a seventy-percent hearing loss,” he explained. “The stubborn old coot has implants, but he refuses to wear the outer parts, so his implants are basically useless.” The initiate turned back to the room. “I’M SENDING THEM IN, RANJEN. BEHAVE YOURSELF.”

_ “You can bug off, too, Renden!” _

The initiate—called Renden, apparently— gave Odo and Krenn a sympathetic look. “Good luck,” he said. “Just let us know when you’re leaving so we can check on him after. He gets a bit worked up sometimes. Comm’s next to the door if you need us.”

Krenn thanked Renden. Renden took off with a bob of his head, and Odo and Krenn stepped inside the ranjen’s room. It was a tight space. A good portion of it was taken up by a hospital bed and medical equipment, rather cold and institutional additions to a living space. A consolation in the form of a brightly-colored coverlet was spread over the bed. Two large wood carvings, both beautifully ornate and done in traditional religious themes, were hung on the walls. Both of the wall carvings were damaged, singed black in places with chips and scorches on their scrolled frames. Several smaller wood figurines were set about the flat surfaces of the room, all of those new-looking and free of fire damage. They were delightful little carvings, variable in subject but made with a singular style, and Odo was immediately charmed.

“Good, aren’t they?”

Odo turned to the ranjen. He was seated in a powered chair that was placed next to a large window. The window offered a fine view of the gardens, which were still green, even in winter. The ranjen was bundled against the chill with layers of lap blankets. Odo suspected he had been bundled up more for the comfort than the cold as the ranjen’s room was climate controlled and quite warm. He was also fully clothed in the long-sleeved, rust-and-blue robes of his religious rank, but he had foregone the hood. He wore no clan earring, perhaps because of the physical condition of his ears. Both of the Ranjen’s ears had been misshapen and scarred  by some physical trauma.

Odo wondered why no one had restored the ranjen’s ears for him. Bajor had slid backward in the availability of good healthcare, but not that far back. He returned his gaze to the Ranjen’s face. His eyes were a faded jade green that still shone brightly from his weathered, brown face, and they observed Odo’s inspection of his person with a spark of shrewdness. He was alert; he knew Odo was studying him. He seemed to be amused rather offended. Ranjen Jendu was indeed very old, but he didn’t seem the delicate case the novice had painted him as.

Odo stopped his inspecting. He realized he was being rude. He had yet to answer the ranjen’s question. He began to speak his answer, but then remembered the hard-of-hearing part, so he nodded his affirmative instead. He agreed that the wood carvings were quite good.

“Renden’s work,” the Ranjen replied, grinning proudly. “The big ones on the wall are mine, recovered from the monastery, but Renden carved all the little ones. Does ‘em in his spare time and brings them here to cheer me up. My hands are too old to carve anymore. I keep telling that pup he ought to get out of here and join the woodworker’s  _ d’jara _ in Dahkur. He’s got too much potential to do what I did and waste it on a religious life.” The ranjen turned his attention to Krenn. “So,” he said, looking Krenn up and down, “speaking of pups, what does a shiny-new police inspector want with an old goat like me?”

“We’re here to talk to you about Hadara Mari,” Krenn replied.

“Heh?”

_ “Hadara Mari!” _

“I can’t hear you, boy. Come closer. And I promise, no ear pinching. Always thought that was a stupid trick.”

Odo and Krenn moved closer to the ranjen. Odo took the chair next to the old man’s. Krenn remained standing, taking a place behind Odo. The hearing devices Renden had mentioned were set on a side table by the ranjen’s elbow. The devices were small, skin-toned buds meant to be inserted into the ear canal to complete the circuit for the ranjen’s implants. The buds didn’t look like they were obtrusive or hard to wear, even considering the physical deformities of the ranjen’s ears, so why didn’t the ranjen use them?

Odo looked up and found the ranjen peering curiously at him. It was Odo’s turn to be inspected. The ranjen’s eyes narrowed to a squint as he examined Odo’s face. The old man leaned even closer so he could get a better look. Odo was used to the scrutiny over his appearance, so he didn’t lean away.

“Nope, not my eyes,” the ranjen concluded. “You are an odd-looking fellah, aren’t ya?”

Odo ignored that and pointed at the small hearing devices on the table. He made a pantomime with his hands. Maybe the ranjen should consider using them?

“Nah. Hate those bastard things. They never did work right. Every time I use them, my head aches terribly, and I can’t hear a damned thing around all that ringing. Sort of defeats the purpose. You’re just gonna have to speak up, sonny.”

That wasn’t going to work. Odo had several questions and he had no wish to scream them all. Odo picked up one of the buds on the table and examined it. He let the pads of his fingers relax to their natural state and, without the humanoids of the room knowing any better, used his Changeling senses to investigate the little device and learn its inner workings. 

When he was sure he understood the design of the hearing device and how it operated, he set the bud down. He locked his gaze deliberately with the ranjen’s, made sure he had the man’s attention, and then showed the ranjen his hands, palms out and fingers spread. He slowly reached to the Ranjen’s head, just past the man’s mangled left ear. As he did, he made another sly adjustment to the middle two fingers of his right hand and created a sound conduction node on each fingertip. He touched them to the occipital bone on the left side of the Ranjen’s head.

“Can you hear me, Ranjen?” Odo asked.

The man’s faded jade eyes went wide and he cackled with delight. “By the Prophets, sonny, I can! And no ringing! How’d you do that? You a telepath or a Vulcan or something?”

“I fall into the ‘or something’ category,” Odo replied.

“Well, I’d say so.” He assessed Odo again, that shrewd twinkle returning to his eye. “Whatever you are, sonny, you are certainly something. I don’t think my ears worked this good fifty years ago...Say, sonny, you need a job?”

“I have one,” Odo replied. “I’m on the clock now. My name is Odo, and this is Inspector Krenn. We need to talk to you about Hadara Mari.”

_ “Pfft _ ! That one. I remember her. She was a real annoyance.”

“She’s dead,” Odo said. “We believe she was murdered.”

“Oh, that’s bad news,” the ranjen replied. “I don’t like to hear that, sonny, not at all. No one deserves to be murdered. Doesn’t change the fact that she was an annoyance, though.”

“What was so annoying about her?” Krenn asked.

“She was a pain in the ass!” the ranjen replied. “Too pushy. She kept coming here, week after week, pestering me about the Latara. I told all I could remember the first time she was here, but she didn’t let up. Only reason I let her back in here to bother me was because she was a looker. I always did have a weak spot for women, and what else has an old goat in a home got to look forward to? So, she kept visiting and I kept talking, but I guess she got tired of me…Haven’t seen her for months…Annoying woman…”

That certainly didn’t sound like the Hadara Odo knew. If she’d taken the time to befriend the ranjen, she wouldn’t have just unceremoniously dumped him. She had more consideration for the feelings of others than that, at least she did in Odo’s experience, and Odo had never once found Hadara’s company annoying. Then again, he wasn’t a mostly deaf, centenarian monk.

Krenn moved out from his position behind Odo. He took a knee in front of the ranjen’s chair. “What did she want to know about the Latara?” he asked.

“The same thing everyone else did,” the ranjen replied. “If the rumors about the Orb of Prosperity were true, and if so, where the monks hid it.”

Krenn and Odo shared a look. A Bajoran orb? At the Latara? This was new news.

“And were they true?” Krenn prompted. “Was there an orb kept at the Latara?”

“Course not, boy! It was just a wild story. There is no Orb of Prosperity. The Prophets are far beyond that kind of earthly nonsense, but that doesn’t stop people from believing in it. Who wouldn’t want to believe in get-rich-quick tips from the gods? Somehow, the Latara’s name got tied up with an old legend, and it got around that we supposedly had the orb. Even those fools from the Obsidian Order believed we had the damned thing. They tore the Latara apart looking for it. I have no idea who started that rumor, but I hope whoever it was burns with the _ pagh _ wraiths in the undying flames of the Fire Caves until time itself is dead. They surely deserve it. We would never have attracted the attention of the Cardassians if not for the rumor that we held an orb of power.”

Odo and Krenn tried to guide the conversation back to Hadara and her visits. They prompted the ranjen with leading questions and tried to steer him back to the subject at hand, but now that it had been mentioned, the ranjen kept getting pulled back to the Cardassian takeover of the Latara. Odo and Krenn gave up trying to control the conversation and let the Ranjen speak. More accurately, they let him ramble. Odo kept his touch on the old man’s skull as he and Krenn patiently listened to the ranjen give his account of the usurping and destruction of the Latara Monastery.

The Obsidian Order arrived on Latara Island under cover of darkness. The Order had brought a detachment of military special forces with them. As the residents of the monastery slept peacefully in their cots, the Order stormed the beach, shot gas grenades over the monastery walls, and sent ground troops in after the gas to subdue the population. The troops were ordered to show no mercy to any resistance from men, women, or children, and the soldiers followed their orders with ruthless efficiency. It was a bloodbath. Over a third of the monastery’s population was killed in under an hour and the rest swiftly surrendered to stop the carnage. The monks had never stood a chance.

By dawn, and without further resistance, the monastery was evacuated of most of its Bajoran residents and was under full control of the Obsidian Order. The Order had rounded up the surviving monks and other staff of the Latara and forced them onto transports. As far as Jendu knew, the Bajorans were divided up and sent to labor camps. It was common practice for the Cardassians to break up population groups before they were interred to prevent collusion. The Cardassians kept a select few on the island to hold for questioning. Ranjen Jendu was old even then, the longest-lived resident of the Latara, and thus the most informed, so he was one of the Bajorans who was detained by the Order. Jendu and the other detainees, including the monastery’s vedek superior, were kept prisoner for weeks as the Cardassians tore apart the property looking for the orb.

On his very first day as a prisoner in his own home, the Cardassians questioned Jendu Zemm, beat him when they didn’t like his answers, and that was how he lost his hearing. He was far too old to take a real beating, and the Order’s agents knew that, they were controlled with their torture, taking Jendu just to the brink of breaking but not over it. One young soldier finally went too far. He raised his riot stick and boxed Jendu with it, first on one side of his head and then on the other, rapidly, _ pop-pop! _ Jendu immediately collapsed to the ground, stunned with searing, screaming pain that tore through his entire being. Blood poured in warm, thick runners down both sides of his face. A horrible pressure was building in his head that threatened to crack his skull open and he was stupefied by the weight of it, but the soldiers were too busy arguing with themselves to notice. As Jendu lay in helpless agony on the floor, the soldier who hit him was promptly beaten by his superior and ended up on the ground right next to Jendu. The boy was punished not for beating an old man senseless, but for screwing up the interrogation.

The soldiers hauled a bleeding, half-conscious Jendu up from the floor, dragged him bodily up the stairs of the second tower, and tossed him in the room that would serve as his cell. It was one of the living quarters (it’s not like the Latara had a jail), so he was lucky enough to have a bed and access to water. At first, the pain in his head was so great, he let himself pass out right there on the floor, but later, he came to and managed to crawl his way to the bed and get himself in it. He drifted in and out of consciousness for several days. When he finally came out of it, his hearing was gone. In its place was a constant ringing and a constant headache. The Cardassians didn’t have much use for Jendu since he couldn’t hear them anymore, but they still kept him around, presumably because the Obsidian Order always followed a ‘haste makes waste’ policy. Maybe they weren’t ready to waste Jendu Zemm just yet, but really, Jendu had no idea why they bothered with him. They provided him the most basic of medical care, fed him when they thought of it, but mostly they left him in that room, by himself. Since he couldn’t hear and there was no window in his room, he had no idea what was happening outside, or what had happened to the other monks, until the day the Cardassians came for him again.

On what would be his final day at the Latara, the home he’d known all his life, the soldiers hauled Jendu out of his room, dragged him down the hall, had to carry him through the first-floor great room he was so weak, and hauled him out all the way to the grand courtyard between the four towers. The other detainees were there before him, and all of them were in the same state he was—scared, starved, injured, and surrounded by the enemy. Jendu thought surely he was going to meet his makers that day. However, the gul in charge exiled his Bajoran detainees instead. Why exile instead of death, Ranjen Jendu could only speculate, but either way, exile was the more cruel choice. Ranjen Jendu and the surviving detainees were turned out of _ their own home  _ and left to rot in the wet, tropical heat of the jungle. They had no food, no potable water, no tools, and were stranded on their own island. Of course, they considered Latara Village, but the monks had been afraid if they went there, the villagers would be punished for helping them. Or worse, would turn them in. The monks decided to go into hiding instead. They traveled on foot across the island to hide in the sea caves, scratching out what living they could until they were found just after the withdrawal.

“And for whatever reason, I was the only one who survived that year,” the Ranjen finished. “I will never understand it, sonny, why the Prophets chose me to be the one. The others were much younger men, hearty fellas and much better examples to the faith, but the elements or illness or injuries took them out, one by one, until I was all there was. One useless, shriveled up, mostly deaf old monk with a place reserved at death’s table long before any of it even started. The others kept caring for me in the Bajoran tradition, wasting resources, wasting their energies, choosing dogma over common sense…I tried to tell them to save themselves and leave an old man to his fate....Damned fools…”

The Ranjen trailed off. He turned to the window. Winter-gray light illuminated his paper-skinned face. The sorrow in his jade gaze was ancient. Odo regretted he had taken such an old man down such a dark path. He also regretted being gruff with the novice at the reception desk. He had judged her precipitously. It hadn’t been bureaucracy that made her so resistant. It really had been mercy.

The Ranjen turned his gaze away from the window. It fell hazily on Krenn. “You remind me of him, you know. Omani. He was about your age. He was with me when they found us. We were the only two left, but he didn’t make it, either. He died at the hospital. Can you imagine going through all of that hell, all of that horror, all of that suffering, only to die right after you were rescued?...Hmph…Damned kid...”

The Ranjen trailed off once again, still staring at Krenn, looking without really seeing. His eyelids began to droop heavily and his skin had taken on a waxy cast. Their visit had drained him. Odo hadn’t exactly gotten the answers he came for, but he wasn’t going to press. They could try again another day.

The ranjen wasn’t quite ready to end the visit, though. He rallied himself and pushed back against his fatigue. “You, boy,” he said, waving a hand at Krenn. “Go to the chest at the foot of the bed. The combination for the lock is the year of the withdrawal. There’s an old storage chip in there. Managed to hang on to it through all these years, through all that hell. It has a thing or two I want you boys to see.”

Krenn did as he was bid. While Krenn rifled through the chest, Ranjen Jendu turned his attention to Odo. He lifted his hand and reached for Odo’s arm, the one still touching his head. He wrapped strong, scarred fingers around Odo’s wrist. Odo noticed a detail he’d missed. In addition to his missing ears, the ranjen was missing his last two fingers on his left hand. 

“Thanks for this, sonny, however you did it. I haven’t had a conversation without pain for a very long time.”

“You’re welcome, sir.”

The ranjen’s eyes started to drift closed again, but once again, he pulled himself back from the edge. He blinked blearily at Odo.

“Well, you’re an are an odd-looking fella, aren’t ya?” He gave a drowsy half-cackle. “Course, who am I to talk? I wasn’t exactly a good-looking man, but I managed just fine. Got around quite a bit in my day. Take it from an ugly old goat, sonny. When it comes to playing the long game, looks don’t matter as much. The rest of you is a lot more important, especially with the women…Oh, the women I knew, sonny, such wonderful women… _ Beautiful  _ women…That’s why I never made vedek, you know. I couldn’t keep it in my robes long enough to stay out of trouble. Prophets, I was a lousy monk, but I had a lot of fun…What about you, sonny? You like women?”

“I do,” Odo replied.

“Is there a special one in your life?”

“There is.”

“Good for you,” the ranjen said. He patted Odo’s shoulder and smiled drowsily. “Tell me about her. Is she pretty?”

“She’s not pretty,” Odo replied. “She’s glorious.”

“Oh shit, sonny, you really are in trouble. You’re not gonna make vedek, either, are you?”

“I’m afraid not.”

“Here’s the chip,” Krenn said. He held up a clear plastic case that contained an old-fashioned computer chip.

The ranjen briefly snapped awake again when he saw the case. “The chip. You boys take that. Keep it safe. It’s the only copy…Wouldn’t let those vultures from the Order have it…Wouldn’t let that pushy blonde have it, either...”

“Ranjen,” Odo said, gently shaking him awake. “What blonde? Who wanted the chip?”

“Hardada…Hadera…wasser name…”

“Hadara Mari?” Krenn asked.

“Thassit.” The Ranjen’s eyes closed as sleep finally took him off. He was still muttering to himself as he went. “Annoying woman…Pretty, but annoying…Always had a weak spot for blondes…”

 


	14. Chapter 14

 

Krenn and Odo quietly stepped out of Ranjen Jendu’s room and into the dim, narrow hallway. The automatic door slid closed behind them. Krenn looked down at the case in in his hand. He turned it over, inspected it from one side and then the other. Something caught his attention. He brought the case up to his right eye and peered closely at the case. A fascinated and nostalgic grin grew on his face as he squinted myopically at the chip. 

Odo tried to discern what Krenn found so interesting, inspecting over Krenns shoulder, but the chip wasn’t so fascinating to Odo. It was an unassuming object made of clear polymer, or maybe crystal, that housed a geometrically-patterned cluster of gold wires. The chip was no bigger than a thumbnail and was sandwiched between two layers of clear plastic for protection. It didn’t seem like anything notable. So what was Krenn smiling about?

Krenn looked up at Odo. “This thing,” he said, “is a genuine antique. It’s even older than Ranjen Jendu. The original d’jarra mark from the company who made it is still there. This thing is worth a fortune in certain circles, just for its nostalgic value. Bajor stopped using this method of data storage almost two hundred years ago. I can’t even begin to guess how we would access whatever is on it.”

Odo shrugged. “The  _ Rio Grande _ will figure it out,” he said.

“Naturally,” Krenn replied, his grin turning wry. “Extraction and analysis of data from antiquated alien data storage devices. Just some more of Starfleet’s magic.” He gestured down the long hallway and to the building’s exit. “Shall we go be wizards, then?”

“We’re investigators, Krenn, not magicians,” Odo replied. “And not I’m not ready to head back to the ship just yet. We’re not done here. We need to talk to the receptionist again. I want the information she claimed she had.” He pointed at the case in Krenn’s hand. “And you should hide that,” he said. “I don’t know what’s on it, but if Ranjen Jendu was protecting it, and considering what you just told me, I think the less people that know we have that chip, the better.”

Krenn opened his uniform jacket and tucked the case inside it. Odo turned to the direction of the reception area. Krenn fell in step with him as he closed his jacket. The lawmen began a casual walk down the long hallway.

“What kind of information are you looking for?” Krenn asked.

“The kind of information that was missing from my public records search in the park,” Odo replied. “It very much concerns me that information about Ranjen Jendu and the night of the massacre wasn’t readily available. The Bajoran archives must have more on these events somewhere, but where did they go? There must also be witnesses who saw Hadara Mari come and go from the ranjen’s room. Some may have even talked to her, and I’d like to know what was said. We’re on to something in this place, a new set of leads, and I believe they’re the types of leads that are case-breakers.”

“You mean like the fact that Hadara Mari wasn’t blonde, but Ranjen Jendu says she was? Yeah, I caught that, too. As old as the Ranjen is, I doubt that’s a mistake on his part. Either Hadara changed her hair color at some point, which isn’t so unusual, or—”

“—or it wasn’t Hadara that visited the ranjen,” Odo finished. “It was someone who pretended to be Hadara Mari.”

“Which _ is  _ unusual,” Krenn said. “And if we’re right, that someone assumed Hadara’s identity, that means someone went to a lot of trouble and broke some big laws to get in here. You can’t enter this facility without ID confirmation, and whoever faked it  would have to have been pretty good at that kind of thing. Professional, really. Look how much trouble we had getting in here, and we’re perfectly legitimate.”

“Which is why I want to start with the receptionist,” Odo said. “I want to know if they have surveillance records.”

“Which will easily confirm our theory,” Krenn said. “But that’s another thing that’s bothering me. Why pretend to be Hadara Mari and go to that much trouble just to visit an old monk? That’s not a crime. There’s no need to cover your tracks on a simple visit.”

“Hadara worked for the first minister’s office,” Odo promoted.

Krenn paused for a beat to think about that. “Which means she had access to certain information and a higher security clearance than the average Bajoran,” he concluded. “Right. But why would that matter? Again, were talking about an old monk saltier than the sea he lived by with nothing but a tragic past left to his name. What’s the deal with the ranjen? What’s so important about him?”

“That,” Odo said, “is the information we need to find before we leave this place.”

Odo and Krenn proceeded back down the hallway and returned to the reception area. They found Renden waiting in the lobby. He was leaning casually against a wall and staring at the floor with his arms folded over his chest. As soon as he spied Odo and Krenn, he jumped to attention, his expression eager and concerned. Odo assured Renden they’d left the ranjen in a peaceful state. He was sound asleep. Renden’s expression relaxed, but he rushed off down the hallway toward the ranjen’s room.

The novice-receptionist was still behind the desk, but this time, she wasn't alone. A rather stout woman in dark blue robes covered by a dark green tunic stood behind the novice. Odo didn’t know that particular color combination of robes or what order it marked the woman from, but her round face was framed in the formal, sculpted hood of high religious rank. Her skin was fair and she had a wide, upturned nose. Her age was indeterminate. She could have passed for thirty, but she could have also been fifty. The stoutness and the confidence of her stance made it hard to hazard a guess at her years, but Odo could guess her hair would be dark. Black, straight brows arched above a pair of large brown eyes so rich in color, they could have easily rivaled Kira’s in their beauty. As he and Krenn drew closer, Odo noted a small opal caught in the chain of her earring, an unusual charm for a clan marker and an indicator that she was a native of the Rankar province. Her hands were clasped at her rather generous waist and hidden inside her sleeves, and the dark look she leveled at Krenn and Odo as they reached the desk said she was not happy with either of them.

“Hello, gentlemen,” the stout woman greeted them. “I am Vedek Sulan. I am the superior of this facility.”

There was censure hiudden in the vedek’s greeting. Odo tread carefully. “Greetings, Vedek Sulan,” he said. He swept a formal bow. “This is Inspector Krenn of the Bajoran Police. I am Security Chief Odo, Deep Space Nine. I am currently on assignment as a consultant to the inspector.”

The vedek gave the lawmen a short nod of acknowledgement. “Thank you for the introduction, but I had your names and ranks already,” she said. “Novice Lior did inform me you were here.”

Odo looked down at the novice. Her face was already pinched with anxiety, but her expression pinched even tighter as she met Odo’s gaze. The vedek laid a hand on the novice’s shoulder and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

“I do wish you’d let me know you were coming,” Vedek Sulan continued. “Considering the import of your purpose here, it would have been appropriate. I might also have been of help to you. Announcing your visit might have saved us all some valuable time.”

Odo felt a little foolish. The vedek had a right to be displease as she was correct. He and Krenn should have gone through her first as a gesture of respect, but at the time, and as often occurred when Odo was conducting an investigation, worrying about protocol had taken a back seat to getting the information he wanted. Odo wasn’t done getting his information, either, so he thought it best to get back on the vedek’s good side.

“My apologies, Vedek,” Odo replied. “We’re here strictly for background information about the Latara Monastery. No one is being arrested, and we’re not here on a warrant.  It didn’t occur to us to disturb a vedek superior with a simple matter. We never intended to inconvenience anyone.”

One of Vedek Sulan’s dark brows lifted slightly. Her frown didn’t change. She wasn’t much moved by Odo’s humility.

“After such a lengthy visit with Ranjen Jendu, you must have questions,” she said.

“We do, Vedek,” Odo replied. “We were hoping—”

Vedek Sulan raised her hand in a silencing gesture. “I’m sure I can answer them for you,” she said. “However, we should continue this conversation in my office. That way, we can all be more comfortable.”

Again, there was a subtle tension in the Vedek’s tone, a warning that went deeper than her words. She was too tense for her displeasure to be caused by a mere oversight of courtesy.  Odo was right; there was something going on at this place much bigger than he and Krenn knew about, and he sensed it had much to do with the vedek’s testiness. He decided to continue to play the humble role in hopes of finding out what it really was that had the vedek upset. Besides, even Odo wasn’t brave enough to argue with a testy vedek on her own turf.

“As you wish, Vedek,” he conceded with a small bow.

“Follow me, please,” Vedek Sulan said. She stepped out from behind the reception desk and started walking away from the reception area at a brisk, no-nonsense pace. Odo and Krenn shared a quick look and fell into step behind her. She turned her head to issue an order to the novice over her shoulder.

“Lior, send a tea service to my office, please.”

“Yes, Vedek,” the novice replied. She was tapping her comm before the vedek even turned around.

Odo and Krenn followed Vedek Sulan down another narrow, dark hallway. They were heading in the opposite direction of the Ranjen’s room. Vedek Sulan stopped at the first door of the passage and tapped her code into the comm panel. The door slid open. She stood aside and ushered Odo and Krenn in ahead of her.

“Please, make yourselves comfortable,” the vedek said.

Odo and Krenn chose to settle themselves into a pair of old-fashioned, high-backed leather armchairs that were on the guest side of the vedek’s desk. The vedek’s desk was placed close to a window with another fine garden view. Even with its gray winter cast, the daylight let into the room brightened the antiquity of the vedek’s office. Her desk was beautiful, an antique, carved with traditional Bajoran scrollwork and deeply aged enough in its golden-red color to have been original to the facility. 

The vedek moved herself behind the desk and swept her dark blue robes straight beneath her before she sat down. She quickly brought her hands together over her rounded stomach and tucked them back inside her sleeves.

“So,” Vedek Sulan began, “we’re all busy people, so let us get to the point. You came here seeking the last survivor of the Latara Monastery after discovering that information about the Latara’s past is strangely missing from the Bajoran public archives. Is that correct?”

“Uh, yeah,” Krenn replied. “I mean—Yes, Vedek.”

“And you are both curious as to  _ why _ this information is missing.”

“Yes, Vedek.”

“Given that Odo is a ranking officer in the militia and his security clearance got you in here, I can answer those questions for you. However, be aware that many of the surviving records from the Latara Monastery were sealed by order of the Vedek Assembly. Any information I give you is considered classified.”

“Let me guess,” Odo said. “The order of suppression was drafted by Wenn Adami.”

“Yes, it was,” Vedek Sulan replied. “The order mandated a level-two clearance or higher to access the archives, and to see the ranjen himself. Not especially high, but high enough to bar civilians or curiosity seekers.” She turned her gaze to Krenn. “Normally, Inspector, you’d need a warrant to even say hello to Ranjen Jendu, but as I said, you brought your militia clearance with you, one much higher than a level two, so we can save ourselves the paperwork.” Vedek Sulan turned to Odo. “Considering Wenn Adami is now  _ Kai _ Wenn, heed me when I tell you that a breach of confidentiality in this matter will have consequences. I can and will answer your questions. I have been authorized to do so, but you cannot record my answers. You are ordered to submit any written reports of your visit to this facility to the Vedek Assembly for approval before releasing them to the police, and those orders come from far over both our heads. Understood?”

“Yes, Vedek,” Odo replied.

“Inspector Krenn, you are advised to not say anything about this conversation to anyone, ever. You shouldn’t even be here, but I was authorized to speak in front of you due to the nature of your investigation. I’m also still displeased you didn’t check in with me first. I expect that sort of breach of decorum from an off-worlder, but not from a son of Bajor, so don’t give me a reason to be even less happy with you than I am already. Understood?”

“Yes, Vedek,” Krenn replied. The tips of his ears turned as red as his cheeks.

The door chime spared Krenn and Odo from the rest of Vedek Sulan’s displeasure. “Ah,” she said, her expression brightening. “That would be our tea.”

She called for the door to open. Another novice in light blue robes came in baring a tray with a traditional Bajoran tea service—red clay pot and cups, clay vessels that would contain milk, spices, and sweeteners, a small selection of fruits, and a plate of sweet and savory pastries. The novice set the loaded tray on the vedek’s desk and quietly left the room.

The Vedek said a short blessing over the food and then began to prepare the tea. Odo was fascinated as he watched the vedek work. She carefully add the loose tea leaves and spices to the water. As she began to stir them, she chanted the words of blessing over the pot, and Odo’s curiosity gave way to genuine pleasure. The vedek had a wonderful voice. It was warm and rich, in the lower register, and quite strong, though she’d tempered the volume to match the venue. Odo wondered how much better Vedek Sulan’s voice would sound in a temple where she could sing in full. 

Odo identified the chant Vedek Sulan sang from the melody more than the words. The vedek was performing the traditional tea ceremony that welcomed guests and friends, and he was yet again surprised. He had never been part of a real tea ceremony before. He’d only seen a ceremony performed once, from a distance.

Once the tea was properly prepared and blessed, Vedek Sulan began to pour for her guests. Odo declined the tea with a regret he truly felt. It wasn’t often one was invited to share a tea ceremony with a vedek, but he had to tell her that he didn’t eat or drink. Vedek Sulan poured a cup and set it before him anyway. A gesture of solidarity, the vedek explained. Odo could take tea with her in spirit if not in fact.

After Krenn was served, the vedek poured for herself. She set down the pot, picked up her clay mug, leaned back in her chair, and took a sip of her tea. A small smile lifted the corners of her mouth as she savored the brew. The smile brought out a rather girlish dimple on her left cheek.

“So,” Vedek Sulan began as steam curled around her rounded face. “Did Jendu put his ears in for you?”

“Not exactly,” Odo said, “but we found a way to communicate with him.”

“And what did he tell you?”

“He talked mostly about the night of the massacre,” Krenn replied.

“Mmm,” Vedek Sulan said, nodding. “He often does speak of that terrible night. He can’t help it. The ranjen suffers from a trauma of the mind related to his ordeal. The man endured horrors that should have killed him, especially at his age. Even though he is quite safe now, the emotional damage is permanent. His doctors tell me that his emotional injuries are also why he won’t use his implants. They say the components of his hearing device are fine, internal and external, and the malfunction is psychological, but I’m not completely convinced that’s entirely true. Doctors don’t know everything.”

As the vedek spoke, Krenn reached for the tea tray. He plucked a small cheese pastry from the plate. Odo raised a brow at him. He was eating again? Krenn shrugged and popped the pastry into his mouth.

Odo returned his attention to the vedek.  “Is that also why his outer ears haven’t been reconstructed?”

“Yes,” Vedek Sulan replied. “He won’t let the surgeon in to see him. He punishes himself, you see, for the Latara. For the death of his fellows. It’s survivor’s guilt, a rather unfortunate side effect of the Occupation many Bajorans suffer.”

Krenn reached for another pastry. “How did such an old man survive all that, anyway?” he asked. “After everything he told us, it seems like a miracle he made it.”

“There was nothing miraculous about it,” Vedek Sulan said. “The other survivors made Jendu a priority. They knew the monastery was doomed, and they believed to preserve its oldest member was to preserve its history. The other monks did everything they could to make sure the ranjen lived, even at the expense of themselves. Jendu’s guilt isn't entirely unfounded, even if he doesn't deserve to feel it.”

“Vedek,” Odo said, “the ranjen told us the reason the Obsidian Order was so interested in the Latara was because the monastery was rumored to have housed a Tear of the Prophets. Is there any truth to that rumor?”

“There is truth to it,” Vedek Sulan replied. “As far as we know, the Orb of Prosperity was real and may have once been housed at the Latara Monastery. However, we’re not certain it was a Tear of the Prophets. We suspect it might have been a token of the Other.”

Krenn gasped. He began to cough and sputter, and his face and neck flushed an alarming shade of red above the dark gray of his collar. The vedek was quickly on her feet to help him. He raised a hand to stop her.

“Sorry,” he said between coughs. “I’m okay, I just inhaled my food.” He took a sip of tea and cleared his throat. “I’m fine…But you’re serious. There really is an Orb of Prosperity out there somewhere?”

“Is, or was,” Vedek Sulan replied. She poured Krenn a glass of water from a pitcher on her desk. She handed the glass to Krenn and settled back into her seat. “The orb has never been found and no mentions of one were made in what was left of the Latara’s archives. However, we have found clues elsewhere that point to the possibility that it was real. It seems the orb did once exist, but if it did, it was a secret that was buried centuries ago.”

“Ranjen Jendu didn’t think it was real,” Krenn countered, “and he lived at the Latara. How do you know it was real and not just a rumor?”

“As I said, it was an old secret. The monks of the Latara, including Jendu, were likely ignorant of the history they’d inherited because their predecessors made sure it was buried. The only proof we have is anecdotal.”

“What do you mean?”

“Have you ever heard the story of the two brothers and the blackened pearl?”

“I’m not sure.”

Odo chimed in. “You’re referring to the allegory where two brothers find a giant pearl in an underwater cave?”

“I am,” Vedek Sulan replied.

“Not sure I know that one,” Krenn said.

The vedek picked up her tea and eyed Odo over the rim of the cup. “Why don’t you tell it, Odo?”

As an off-worlder, no one expected Odo to know anything about Bajoran culture, and he secretly relished these opportunities. He liked to surprise people. He’d spent years reading about Bajoran religious lore, among many other things, as there hadn’t been anything else to do with his time in Doctor Mora’s lab. He couldn’t help the superciliousness that colored his tone as he replied to the vedek.

“Pa’ana’s version or Mikal’s?”

The vedek’s dimple reappeared. “Mikal’s, please, in summary. We’ll spare ourselves the full verse.”

“As you wish, Vedek,” Odo replied. He took a brief pause to gather his thoughts. Then, he began telling the tale of  _ The Two Brothers and the Blackened Pearl. _

 

_ Once, two brothers lived in a village by the sea. They were pearl divers from a long line of pearl divers,  one older and one younger, and they were each one loyal to the other. They were good men and prosperous, but in the way that working men are prosperous. They had food, shelter, family and friends, but had no earthly riches. They labored long and hard to earn what they did have. The two brothers worked together at their dangerous trade, and they were grateful to have it, but they never forgot that their masters profited best from their risk. Both brothers longed for a life easier than the one they had, one of wealth and leisure like those of their masters who lived in the high towers, but such was not their fate. The brothers distracted themselves from this truth and passed the time as they worked by imagining themselves as the masters, by weaving visions a life they could only dream of, and amusing themselves by building fantasies around wealth they did not have. _

_ One day, the brothers were together on their boat, working their trade just as they had so many days before. They dove at a place they had dove many times, but a storm had passed, and the bed of the sea was changed. The storm revealed to the brothers a thing they had never before seen. A rock had shifted to reveal the hidden entrance to an underwater cave. The brothers were curious, and they were happy to find something new to explore. It was a dangerous thing to dive blind into the unknown, but the brothers were lifelong men of their trade, and brave, and both were bold enough and restless enough to attempt the dive. So, together, the brothers dove down and swam deep and entered the underwater cave. _

_ The brothers followed the dark rock walls of the cave. It led them to an an underwater cavern. It was a place no man could have visited from the land, a hollow bubble trapped under the island, made by the ancient forging fires. At first, the brothers thought they had wasted their efforts as there was nothing of value in the cave. It was dank and small and there were small creatures and seaweeds, but there was not much else to see. However, that is when the brothers had a revelation. They realized they could see in this dark sea cave, far better than they should have been able to with only the light of man to guide them. This secret cave had a light of its own, so the brothers set out to find its source. _

_ Together, the brothers searched the cave and found the source of the cave’s light. At the back of the cave, tucked by the tides behind a rock, was a beautiful, glowing pearl. The pearl was no ordinary pearl. It was far larger than any pearl the brothers had ever before seen, larger than a man’s head, perfectly formed and without flaw. The light the pearl cast was pure and white, and as it bathed the faces of the two brothers in its moonlight glow, their paghs were uplifted with a happiness they had no words for. Truly, they had found something remarkable, something of great worth. They decided that if they could sneak this pearl past their masters and sell it themselves, the price it would fetch would create them as the masters they longed to be. This one pearl could assure that neither brother would want for anything ever again. And after all, they had found it,  they had risked the dive, so it should be they who claimed its worth. _

_ Such a wondrous thing was this precious pearl, the brothers felt unworthy to touch it. Together, they worked it into a diving sack, and together, swam it out of the cave. They returned to their boat and made for the shore rather than the village docks to avoid the notice of their masters. When the brothers came to shore, they offloaded their precious pearl, carefully handling the diving sack by the edges. As the brothers carried their treasure across the sands and took the hidden way back to the village, as they gleefully spoke of spending coin they had not yet gained, the light of the sun touched the pearl. Its moonlight glow was transmuted into the light of the Divine. The light of the pearl shone so bright, so pure, so marvelous and multihued, that when it reached their eyes, the brothers both dropped to their knees on the sand in reverent ecstasy. They were each struck dumb on the sands and held captive in the pearl’s miraculous light. _

_ The light of the pearl was a living light. It spoke to the brothers. It showed them things. It showed them everything they ever wanted to see. They saw how easy it was to acquire the wealth they’d coveted, of how only a few changes in their lives could release an avalanche of good fortune that could elevate their status to that of which before they had only dreamed, and beyond what they had dreamed. They could each give themselves and those they loved the life of freedom and riches they craved, and it was all so much more simple than the brothers had ever thought, and there was no need to barter the pearl to have it. They could be richer than kings and still keep the pearl for themselves. _

_ So much did the pearl show the brothers, so many dreams did it sing them, so much wisdom did it impart, that when it finally released them, the brothers did not know themselves. They did not know one another. They forgot why they had brought the pearl to the surface, but they had not forgotten the promises it made them. With the voice of the pearl still whispering in their minds, still singing them dreams, the brothers turned on one another as one turns on a thief and a stranger, and they fought over who would claim the pearl. _

_ On the sands, with the pearl between them, the brothers fought a long, vicious struggle. Finally, the older brother emerged victorious. He struck down his enemy with a heavy blow and splattered the blood of his younger brother across the sand. His enemy was dead, and he claimed the pearl as his own. _

_ The blood of the fallen coated the hands of the victor. As he claimed his prize and held it up in triumph, the blood on his hands hissed and sputtered like venom on the perfect white face of the pearl. The brother’s hands were burnt and he dropped the pearl. The pearl continued to smoke and hiss as the blood of the fallen bore its way inside and poisoned it and doused its light. The pure white pearl turned black and dead, and from its ruin, a horror issued. _

_ A shrieking shadow poured like an ominous cloud from the blackened pearl and filled the sky. The shadow took the shape of the fallen and became the borhya of the younger brother. The older brother cowered in fear and grovelled before the boryha’s red-eyed rage. The murderer was struck down on the sands by the shadow of his younger brother and left for dead next to the blackened ruin of the pearl.  _

_ And forever after, the pearl would no longer sing men dreams, but only screamed with rage and sorrow… _

 

“At least, that’s how Mikal told it,” Odo finished.

“Whoa,” Krenn said. “That’s a good one. I can see why it’s not so popular, though. It’s a little dark.”

“You told it well, Odo,” Vedek Sulan said.

“Thank you, Vedek,” Odo replied, “but how does this particular allegory relate to the Latara and our case?”

“Not all allegories are fictional,” Vedek Sulan said. “Some are based on real history. A prylar from a scholarly order was able to tie this particular allegory with to real events. This prylar proposed a theory that the pearl in the tale was an orb of power based on its described attributes. An old scroll was found in the central library in Dahkur that strengthened his theory. The scroll was an accounting from a village constable about a man who murdered his cousin during an argument over a found object. He was found dead himself, next to the object and his cousin’s body. He had stabbed his cousin over twenty times before turning the blade on himself. The men were both fishermen from a lower caste under the old d’jarra code.”

“And the object?” Odo asked. “What was it?”

“The constable didn’t know,” Vedek Sulan replied, “but he considered it cursed. It was described in the scroll as a black, tear-shaped stone that burned with cold. The constable concluded the stone had to be the root cause of the incident as prior to these events, the murderer was known to be a mild-mannered man. A murder-suicide was quite a shock to a peaceful fishing village, so the village officials sided with the constable and blamed the stone. The officials of the village didn’t know what to do with a cursed object, so they entrusted it to the closest major religious authority for safekeeping. That was the Latara Monastery.”

“Well, damn,” Krenn said.

“Indeed,” the vedek returned. “It must be noted, however, that the chain of custody for the object hasn’t been proven.”

“And this prylar who discovered the scroll,” Odo said. “Who is he? Where can I find him?”

“His name is Pogran Kald. He was assigned to records recovery at the Latara monastery after the withdrawal.”

“Pogran Kald,” Odo repeated. He pinched the bridge of his nose and heaved a heavy sigh. “Well, damn,” he said softly.

“Do you know him?” the vedek asked.

“I met him two days ago,” Odo replied. “He didn’t present himself as a prylar. He’s using the title of academic master. I don’t believe I informed the vedek, but I am currently a registered guest of the Latara Resort. I’m here on vacation. Or, I was supposed to be on vacation, anyway. My proximity to the scene of the crime is partially how I got pulled into this investigation.”

“Partially,” the vedek repeated. “What’s the other part?”

“I knew the victim. She was a friend from my past.”

The vedek’s dark brown gaze narrowed tightly onto Odo. She stared at him for what felt like an eon, and the longer she looked, the deeper he felt it, felt her gaze probing him, reading him, questioning him. Odo didn’t look away, but still, it was uncomfortable. He swore he could feel phantom fingers grasping the lobe of his right ear.

The vedek finally blinked. Her expression relaxed and Odo was released. “The Prophets do work in such mysterious ways,” she said softly. She paused for a sip of tea before continuing. “Prylar Pogran has earned the title of master, and not all orders are strict about religious address, or dress. Prylar Pogran discovered the scroll that tipped him off about the allegory and the orb long before the idea of turning the monastery into a resort was proposed. I’m still in shock the Vedek Assembly ever allowed such a blasphemy, especially after Pogran’s discovery, but they were under pressure from the Chamber of Ministers. Bajor is becoming desperate for economic stimulation, and the Chamber felt the hotel project couldn’t be delayed, so the Vedek Assembly and the Chamber struck a deal. The Vedek Assembly agreed to let the civilian government start the renovations but stipulated that the Temple retain rights over the library, and that Prylar Pogran be allowed to continue his work. As far as I know, Pogran’s been on Latara Island since, trying to prove his orb theory, and they simply built the hotel around him.”

“I suppose this orb business is why this is all classified,” Krenn said. “Why I’m not supposed to know about it.”

“Unequivocally, yes,” Vedek Sulan answered. “There is no other reason.”

“And it’s also why Kai Wenn took a vested interest in this place,” Odo stated.

“Yes,” Vedek Sulan confirmed. “She was still Vedek Wenn then, but the Vedek Assembly supported her proposal to suppress public access to the information. The theft of our orbs, our direct connection to our Prophets, is the worst blow to our cultural identity the Cardassians ever struck. Bajor is desperate to have them back. People are willing to chase down rumors that have even a glimmer of hope. Kai Wenn suppressed the information about the Latara’s history to deter these seekers. She was concerned that as the press started covering the Latara’s restoration, attention would be drawn to lore best left forgotten until Pogran could prove himself one way or another.”

“Even for the Vedek Assembly, that’s a bit of an overreach, isn’t it?” Krenn said. “People might have a need for some of this information the Kai suppressed. People like police inspectors, for example.”

“Perhaps,” Vedek Sulan said, “but Kai Wenn’s efforts have also kept the crackpots away from this property. This is a medical facility, and we do have several other patients living here, patients who require peace and quiet, not constant intrusion. However, it must be said Kai Wenn has shown little interest in the matter since the order was signed. It wouldn’t surprise me if she’s completely forgotten about it.”

“Oh, I don’t think she’s forgotten.” Odo said. “She’s not the type.”

“True,” Vedek Sulan conceded. Her expression turned thoughtful, creating a short lag in the conversation. Odo and Krenn were silent as she reached for the the teapot. They both watched her deliberate and careful motions as she refill Krenn’s cup, then her own. She set the pot down, picked up her cup, and returned her attention to Odo and Krenn.  

“So, gentlemen, has any of this information we’re protecting so carefully here at Nuena—and that you two found a loophole to access—helped you in any way with a murder investigation?”

“That remains to be seen,” Odo said. “Our victim, Hadara Mari, supposedly visited this facility several times. Her name appeared frequently on Ranjen Jendu’s visitor’s list. Did you ever meet her?”

“Yes,” the vedek replied. “Lior did tell me of that unfortunate coincidence, and I do remember her. Hadara followed protocol and checked in with me on her first visit. She introduced herself as the public relations specialist assigned to the hotel project.”

“Can you describe her?”

“Average height, blonde hair, blue eyes. Slim. Maybe a bit older than me. She always wore a formal business suit when she came here. Her attire was always very smart and attractive.”

Krenn and Odo shared a look. “How did you ID her?” Krenn asked.

“The usual way,” the vedek replied. “She was with the civilian government. We scanned her palm, and the scan checked. Her clearance was level two.”

“Just enough to get in here,” Odo said. “Did she state the purpose of her visits?”

“At first, she claimed she was seeking background information about the Latara to aid in the historical accuracy of the hotel restorations. Then, she claimed she had grown fond of the ranjen and asked if she could continue to visit him. She said she was saddened that he had no family and thought he could use the company. Frankly, I didn’t disagree with her, so I allowed her visits after checking with Jendu to be sure he wanted her here. He seemed very charmed by her attention, so I didn’t see the harm.”  

“Does this facility keep surveillance records?” Odo asked.

“Yes. Why?”

Odo took his tricorder off his belt. He tapped the screen to activate the tricorder and then called up an image of Hadara Mari. He turned the tricorder around to show Vedek Sulan.

“This,” he said to the vedek, “was our murder victim, Hadara Mari. Is this the woman who visited the ranjen?”

Vedek Sulan’s face fell as she looked at the image. “Well, damn,” she said. She looked up at Odo. “No, this is not the same woman.”

Odo turned his tricorder around. He made a couple more taps to the screen and pulled up an image he had in mind. It was a professional image from the hotel’s staff dossier. He turned his tricorder around once more and showed the second image to the vedek. 

“What about this woman?” Odo asked.

“Yes, that is she. That is the woman who visited the ranjen.”

Odo turned his tricorder to show Krenn.

“Vinna Rem,” Krenn said. “Well, damn.”

Vedek Sulan set down her tea cup and turned to her computer terminal. “I’ll provide you the surveillance records,” she said. “The timestamps from the woman’s check-ins are easily cross-referenced with the surveillance image records.”

Odo and Krenn waited while Vedek Sulan deftly tapped commands into her computer panel and prepared the files for transfer. Without looking away from her screen, she reached her hand out to Odo. She twitched her fingers at him and opened her palm. He placed his tricorder in her hand. The vedek downloaded the data and returned the tricorder to Odo.

“That is everything we have,” Vedek Sulan said. “I’ve included the central archive’s confirmation from the ID scans.” She huffed. “I cannot  _ believe  _ we got fooled like that. I suppose this is what I get for not keeping up with the news broadcasts, or I might have caught the security breach myself. I met this imposter face-to-face. She sat in that same chair”—she gestured at Krenn—”and smiled at me while I served her tea. I had no indication she was a fraud. What is the point of all this technology and these endless security checks if it is so easy for criminals to defeat them?”

“A question that has been asked for centuries,” Odo replied, “and one without an easy answer. However, it is my experience that no matter how clever, every criminal makes a mistake at some point and gets themselves caught. It’s just a matter of time.”

“I certainly hope you’re proven to be correct, Odo,”  Vedek Sulan said. “And speaking of time, I’m afraid ours is up. I have several patients to see, and now, with recent revelations, I will also have a massive amount of explaining to do to my superiors. I’ll be filling out incident reports and humbling myself to the arch-vedek for hours. If there’s nothing else I can immediately do for you, gentlemen, I do need to move on.”

Odo rose from his seat, and Krenn followed his lead. “I think we have plenty to get us started, Vedek,” Odo said. “ If we think of anything else, we’ll be in touch.”

“Please,” Vedek Sulan said, “contact me directly, either of you. Don’t bother with the main comm channel. I will personally ensure you get whatever you need from us to resolve this situation.”

Odo and Krenn gave the vedek their thanks and headed for the door. The vedek ushered them out. Odo and Krenn paused at the door to give the vedek a formal bow of parting. When they rose, the vedek said a short blessing for them and added one last thing.

“Odo, I meant what I said. Do call on us if you need anything. We are sorry for the loss of your friend. We offer a prayer that the Prophets will guide you both during this trial and help bring the one who hurt this woman to justice.”

“Thank you, Vedek,” Odo replied. “You’ve been very helpful already. Because of your candor, I think justice is about to be swiftly served. I think Krenn and I are very close to catching a killer.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> This work is based on characters belonging to CBS/ Paramount. The rights to the Star Trek world belong to them. I have made no money from these writings. The characters are theirs, but this story is mine.


End file.
